


nobody saves me, baby, the way you do

by another_promise



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angel!Zayn, M/M, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-05-29 15:30:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6382036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/another_promise/pseuds/another_promise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn's got a penchant for saving people, and Liam's got a penchant for almost dying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So this is my first multi-chaptered fic in the Ziam fandom, and I know that WIPs turn a lot of people off. However, if it offers any reassurance, I've got about 2/3 of it written, and I have the ending planned out, so I anticipate posting a chapter every week until the whole thing is finished, which I think will be about six chapters in total.

“Are you okay?”

It’s the first sentence Liam wakes up to. He blinks, his vision still blurry, and he sees a bright light shining in front of him. His first thought is that he’s glad not to be in a hospital — those places always freak him out — and his second thought is that his head hurts. And his third thought is that he’s staring up at the sun, and he doesn’t remember it being that bright before he fell, and it feels like the sun is talking to him because he doesn’t see anybody else around —

He blinks again. The sun is gone. He’s looking up at a face, young and handsome and chiseled and worried, and he slurs out a couple of those words — _young_ and _worried_ and _sun_ and _who-are-you_ — before he feels a warm touch to his throbbing head. He’s bleeding, he realizes when the hand pulls away, red blood contrasting against golden skin.

“Fell off my bike…” Liam murmurs. The spot on his forehead where the other boy touched him feels hot now; it almost burns, but the throbbing stops, the pain stops, and his breathing evens out. His vision clears, and he can make out the face staring down at him. 

“S’okay,” a voice says, and Liam notices a faint lilt there, an accent that doesn’t belong in this town. “You’re okay now.” The boy’s eyes glint gold, a different hue than his skin, a different hue still from the fuzzy hair on his head. His eyebrows are dark, his features are sharp, but there’s a softness in his eyes, round and warm.

Liam nods, feels the boy’s hand on his head again, and falls asleep.

—

“Oh, Liam…not again.”

He wakes up, and this time he recognizes the sterile fluorescent lights of a hospital. Suppressing a groan, he sees his mother leaning over him. She presses a kiss to his cheek, pats his arm lovingly, and wipes a stray tear from her eye.

Liam sits up in his hospital bed, sees his father standing a few feet back from his mother, and gives a weak smile. “Er, I fell off my bike.”

“Because you almost got hit by a _car._ I knew I shouldn’t have let you go riding around on that thing; these streets weren’t designed with cyclists in mind. I’ll pay your bus fare if it means you don’t have to get back on that dreadful thing. This is the fourth time, Liam…”

“Karen.” Liam’s father interrupts, but his voice is shaky and he looks pale, and Liam remembers that his fear of hospitals is a hereditary condition.

“I’m fine, Mum, really,” Liam insists, but his father is shaking his head.

“I won’t have you back in this hospital for another bike injury. No more biking. End of discussion,” his father says sternly, and Liam knows to drop it. He might be able to persuade them later, once he’s gotten home in one piece.

He grimaces and glances over to the small table next to the bed, noticing a bowl of soup that’s still steaming. His mum catches him eyeing it and, before he can even think to ask, she’s raising a spoon of unidentifiable soup to his lips, literally spoon-feeding her 20 year old son, and he has no choice but to sigh, open his mouth, and go along with it.

A doctor walks in just then to find Liam in this embarrassing position, and Liam’s ears go bright red despite the fact that the doctor barely seems to register what’s going on. 

“Right then, Liam. Everything seems to be normal. The wound isn’t too serious. You’re lucky, you know; if you’d hit the ground with just a bit more impact, your skull might not have been intact — you really ought to start wearing a helmet, haven’t I already told you that? Tremendously lucky that you weren’t more seriously injured. Of course, you’re unlucky to be dealing with this all in the first place, but…anyway, we’ll be letting you go now. Be sure to get plenty of rest. If anything appears to worsen, give me a call…you lot ought to have my number memorized by now, haven’t you?” the woman jokes with a small smile. She’s older, with gray hair and a kind smile, and Liam’s pretty sure that he’s the reason she has a job. 

—

Liam is lying in his own bed, six pillows propping him up. His head still aches, and Karen is dashing in and out of his room frantically; each time she pops in, there’s something else in her hands — a water bottle, a pack of crackers, a cup of tea, a bowl of soup, a sad looking teddy bear from when he was five. She sighs every time, her eyebrows knit together, and Liam has learned from his past few incidents to just let her fuss over him until she wears herself out.

This is his fourth bicycling accident in as many months. It’s not that Liam is a bad bicyclist, or anything like that. It’s just…well, he’s always been accident prone. And he’s been in the hospital more times than he cares to admit. It was enough of a concern that his parents almost didn’t let him go to university in another city, since they were convinced he’d be better off under their supervision.

This particular accident happened on his way to his nightly serving shift at the pizzeria. He only ever works there during the summer, saving up his money for the following term. It's not so bad; the other servers are nice to him, and so is the kitchen staff, although Liam’s never quite sure that he fits in. It seems like the rest of them are always going out and having parties, and Liam’s never exactly been invited to any of them. Still, it's a means to an end, and Liam’s happy to have a reason not to stay cooped up in the house all day.

“Have you got enough pillows, dear?” His mother walks into the room with a spare blanket draped over her arm.

“Er, yeah, Mum. Thank you.” He watches as she lays the blanket over him and smooths the material out. Then she’s off again, and Liam decides to close his eyes in an attempt to get some sleep.

—

_He’s going a bit too fast. He knows that, and he knows that it’s dangerous for someone like him to pick up this much speed on these crowded streets, but it’s still exhilarating. The wind is cool against his scalp, and he feels a grin tugging at his chapped lips. He leans forward on his bike, hunching his shoulders over, letting himself pick up more speed…_

_And it’s too late by the time he realizes that he’s running a red light, that a car is headed straight toward him, and he doesn’t have time to think so he just jerks the handles of his bicycle in the opposite direction. He feels himself flying off the bike, he hears the sound of brakes skidding and horns honking, he sees a boy with golden hair on the sidewalk gaping at him with a panicked expression, and then suddenly the boy is gone, and Liam is falling, falling, falling…_

—

“S’okay,” a voice coos.

Liam’s eyes flutter open, and he feels like he’s got deja vu, because the boy is hovering over his bed, concern clear on his face.

“Who—?” Liam begins, but he doesn’t have a chance to finish. The boy gives him a horrified look, like he’s suddenly remembering that he shouldn’t be hovering over a stranger’s bed, and Liam blinks once and the boy is gone, and it’s like he was never there to begin with.

—

_It was a dream, probably,_ Liam decides, when he wakes up just before sunrise, shaking his head. The pain is gone, though, which strikes him as odd, but he chalks it up to sleeping for so long. Isn’t that what the doctor said he needed? Rest?

He hears a buzz and looks over at his nightstand to see that his phone has three new texts. Grabbing it, he reads them. The first is from last night. It’s his coworker Louis, who also happens to attend the same university as him. They grew up together, but most of the time that they’ve known each other they’ve been at each other’s throats. It’s only recently that they’ve begun to like each other even a little bit, and Liam suspects it has a lot to do with how much time they’ve had to spend together at the pizzeria.

_Payno!! Heard you face-planted again. Is that why I had to cover your shift tonight? I had a hot date you know. You’d better be seriously injured for me to have missed it._

Liam lets out a snort before typing a quick reply:

_I’m fine, thanks for the concern._

The next one is from Harry, one of his friends from school. It was sent an hour ago.

_Karen called me yesterday to tell me that you’ve gotten into another accident? I’m on my way. I’ll be there just in time for breakfast! - H_

The most recent message is from Niall, another friend from school, and Liam is surprised that the boy’s awake at such an hour.

_OH NOOO, LIAM! Harry’s just called me (and woken me up, the bastard) about your most recent accident! Wish I could come visit, too. Call me later to check in!!!_

Liam decides not to answer Niall or Harry, getting up instead to go to the bathroom and take a shower. He lets the hot water run through his short hair and over his head for a few minutes, remembering the warm touch of the golden haired boy the day of the accident…

Had he _really_ dreamt that he was in his room last night?

He stays in the shower for longer than usual, letting the room fill with steam, not coming out until the water runs cold. Stepping out, he towels off, wiping away some fog from the mirror and inspecting his bruised body. His abdomen has a particularly nasty looking bruise and his hands are scraped up from when he tried to catch himself, but his head looks perfectly fine. He raises his hand up to the spot where he hit his head yesterday and applies the smallest amount of pressure, and to his surprise it doesn’t hurt at all.

“Weird,” he mutters, wrapping the towel around his waist and going back to his room. Outside of the bathroom, he can smell his mum cooking breakfast downstairs, salty bacon and bitter coffee and something sweet — pancakes, he thinks — all wafting through the house. His stomach growls as he slips into a pair of sweatpants and a loose t-shirt before practically running downstairs, his mouth already open to greet his mother…

Except it’s not Karen Payne at the stove.

Instead, it’s a tall, gangly boy with long curly hair done up in a messy bun. He hums under his breath as he flips a crepe, then he turns to face Liam. “Morning,” Harry drawls out. “Karen’s taking a break. She’s worried sick about you, you know. Barely got any sleep last night.”

Liam rolls his eyes and glances over to the table, where his mum is sat with a coffee mug in front of her. She’s dozing off, her head nodding forward, and Liam tries to sit down without disturbing her. As soon as Liam’s taken his seat, Harry is pouring him a cup of coffee, fixing it up the way he likes it as if Liam can’t do it himself.

“It was bad enough with just _one_ worried mother,” Liam grumbles, but he can’t hide the smile in his eyes.

“I heard that,” Karen snaps, waking up just in time to hear his remark.

Liam feels guilty immediately. “Sorry, Mum. Er…maybe you should head back to bed for a little while longer? Harry can take good care of me. Look, he’s making crepes and everything.” Liam takes a sip of his coffee just as Harry places a plate in front of him. It’s piled high with crepes, bacon, and an assortment of berries. Harry grins proudly at Liam and Karen.

“He’s in great hands,” Harry agrees. “And you should get some more rest.”

She goes to respond, but yawns instead and seems to think better of it. “Mmhm,” she agrees sleepily, standing up to go back upstairs, her coffee remaining untouched on the table. Harry takes her seat, placing his own plate in front of him and reaching for her coffee.

“She said you hit your head?” Harry says between bites. It comes out like a question, though, and Liam notices the way that Harry’s green eyes are scanning his head for bumps and bruises.

“Er, yeah. It’s fine, though,” Liam replies, chewing his food. For a moment, he considers telling Harry about the boy he’s seen twice now, but thinks better of it. If he starts talking about a boy with golden hair and golden skin who vanished into thin air, Harry will most certainly take him right back to that stale hospital. “Thanks for breakfast,” he says, changing the subject. “She really has been worried sick. I thought she’d never actually go to bed.”

Harry just shrugs and gives him a look like _Well, of course I drove all the way out here just to cook you breakfast. What are friends for?_ and Liam wonders what he did to deserve a friend like Harry.

Later, Harry suggests that they get out of the house for a bit, and he winds up taking Liam shopping. His family is pretty wealthy, and he winds up buying three different pairs of boots for Liam despite his protests and despite the fact that it’s summertime, and Liam refuses to accept them but Harry insists that it’s a ‘get well soon’ present. So, all in all, things go the way they usually do when Harry takes Liam shopping.

They hang around at the mall until around four o’clock, when Harry decides that it’s time for them to grab an early dinner, so Liam suggests the pizzeria that he works at. After all, he can usually get a few free beers there, and Harry agrees that that’s reason enough to go to Liam’s place of employment even when he has the day off.

When they walk in, the place is nearly deserted, since the dinner rush usually doesn’t start for another hour or so. They seat themselves and Louis takes their table, two beers in his hands as he walks over. “Liam! Good to see that you’re alive and well. And you brought Harry Styles! Lucky me. The usual, then?” he asks, setting the bottles in front of them.

“Er…yeah, I guess,” Liam says. Louis flashes them what he probably thinks is a charming smile before leaning a little closer to the table and lowering his voice.

“You two coming to the party tonight?” he asks. 

“You didn’t tell me we were going to a party,” Harry complains. “I’ve brought nothing that I can wear to a party, we’ll have to go back to the mall if I’m going to find a decent outfit.” 

Liam stares at Louis and blinks, because he usually doesn’t get invited to the parties his coworkers throw. “Party?” he repeats, brows furrowed.

“Yeah, Payno. I decided to throw a party tonight because when I woke up this morning, I felt so damn good knowing that you were okay. You two should come. It’ll be at my place, it starts around ten…but don’t actually get there at ten, all right? Only idiots come to parties on time, and I don’t want Earl from the kitchen to look cooler than you, Liam.” Louis gives them a wink before backing away, and he doesn’t come back until their pizza is ready.

—

Liam is drunk.

It’s been a few beers and a couple shots, and he might also have a secondhand high from the thick smoke that Harry and Louis have been inhaling, and he wonders if getting drunk right after his most recent near-death experience was such a good idea, but then a pretty blonde girl is handing him another beer, and she’s laughing at his jokes and so is he, and Harry is waggling his eyebrows at him from across the room, and the music is loud but she whispers _wanna get out of here?_ so Liam finishes his beer and takes her hand and they’re walking out together.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and sees ten missed calls from his mother, three voicemails, and six angry texts. “Don’t worry, I’m at Louis’ place,” he types, somehow able to spell everything right, and he looks back up at the blonde girl. What’s her name again?

“Guess we can go to mine. It’s only a ten minute walk,” she giggles before leaning in and pressing her lips to Liam’s. Liam kisses her back, and he decides that it feels nice even if he can’t remember her name. His hands rest on her hips, her arms are wrapped around his neck, and the kiss is drunk and sloppy but she feels small in his arms so he doesn’t mind much.

Someone lets out a wolf whistle and the two of them pull apart. Two men are leaning against the brick wall of the nearest building, one of them with a cigarette between his lips. “What’s a pretty bird like you doing with this one, hm?” one of them asks, and Liam suddenly recognizes the men.

“Don’t you know he’s a faggot?” the other one taunts.

“Freddy, Kevin, haven’t you two got anything better to do than lurk about the town? Or are you still just as immature as you were back in school?” Liam asks, positioning himself so that he’s in between the girl and his childhood bullies.

“Oh, are you a tough guy now, Payne?” Kevin asks. He’s bigger and burlier than he used to be, Liam notices.

“Yeah, I am,” Liam says a little recklessly. He turns around to glance at the girl. “Maybe you should get out of here; head back to the party. My friend Harry will share a cab with you.”

And now it’s two on one with no witnesses, and Liam wonders if he made a mistake, and he’s having flashbacks to being pushed around in the locker room or in the hallway when the teachers weren’t looking, and the boys are closing in on him like animals cornering their prey.

Freddy throws his cigarette butt to the ground, stomping on it before smirking. “Come on, Liam, it’ll be just like old times. Do you still cry when you get hit?”

Liam is frozen in place, trying to choose between fight or flight, when he feels a warm hand on the small of his back.

“These two bothering you?” a voice asks. Liam turns to see the golden haired boy standing beside him. He’s shorter and skinnier than Liam, but there’s something lethal in his eyes as they flash gold.

Liam expects a snide comment, but instead both Freddy and Kevin are scurrying away, running in the opposite direction as if the boy had just pulled out a gun. “How’d you…?” Liam trails off, looking at the boy incredulously, a bit scared.

The boy just beams back at him, and for a second Liam feels like his head is swimming because _holy fuck_ this boy is beautiful, and it’s like he’s noticing it for the first time when he sees his brown eyes sparkling and crinkling in the corners, his nose scrunching up, his tongue pressed up behind his teeth. His hair is cut short in a buzz cut, but it’s a dazzling shade of gold. His skin is practically glowing, brown and smooth, and there’s a bit of dark stubble on his cheeks. Liam takes in a sharp breath and then the boy is frowning at him.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his hand still pressed to the small of Liam’s back. “Is it your head again?”

And Liam suddenly feels sober again when he’s reminded that he’s seen this boy twice before. “Who are you?” he demands, and his tone is a little more accusatory than he intends. “How did you get into my room last night?”

“My name is Zayn,” he says softly. “I…I wasn’t in your room last night. I don’t know what you’re talking about…?” His tone is a little too hesitant for Liam to believe him.

“Yes, you were. I hit my head yesterday, but I know what I saw. I woke up and you were in my room, and then I blinked and you were gone, and now you’ve just come out of nowhere to save me…and it was you yesterday too, wasn’t it? When I got into the accident?” Liam asks.

Zayn drops his hand from Liam’s back. “You should get home,” he says. “I’ll walk you.”

Liam wants to ask why he should trust him, but the other boy’s eyes are staring into his own, and he suddenly forgets all of his suspicion. There’s something strange about Zayn; there’s something that radiates off of him, a certain type of energy or warmth or something that makes it hard for Liam to do anything but blindly trust him. Zayn gives him a soft look and offers Liam his hand. Liam takes it and the two of them walk to his house.

—

“Your friends are worried about you,” Zayn says as they step into Liam’s bedroom.

“How do you know?” Liam asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I mean, your friends are _probably_ worried about you. You left that party, but sent Sarah back—”

“Sarah?” Liam repeats.

“The girl…the girl you were with?” Zayn licks his lips nervously, and the action makes it hard for Liam to remember what he’s about to say.

“Oh.” It’s all he can manage, because he’s got so many questions now that he can’t exactly say all of them, can he? And it seems like Zayn will just avoid answering them anyway. So he settles for one question: “Are you, um…stalking me?” he asks stupidly.

Zayn shakes his head furiously. “No! I—look, it’s hard to explain. I’m not…I mean, I’m new at this, you’re the first one I’ve been assigned to, and usually we’re not supposed to be seen, you know, but—”

“Are you…an assassin?”

Zayn just blinks at him and looks at him like he’s stupid.

“Well, that answers that, then,” Liam grumbles. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get to bed.” He goes to take his shirt off, lifting it over his head, and when he’s about to take his jeans off, he notices Zayn staring at him. “Er…what?” he asks.

“You didn’t—I didn’t know that you were bruised like that,” Zayn stutters, swallowing. “Let me…” And he’s walking closer to Liam, reaching out slowly like he’s afraid to frighten him off. Zayn’s fingers land on Liam’s bruised stomach, and he feels a familiar warmth wash over him, just like when he got into the accident. His skin is starting to feel hot under Zayn’s touch, almost uncomfortably so, and he’s about to squirm away, but Zayn starts cooing at him. “Shh…stay still, Leeyum.” And the way the other boy lilts out his name makes it sound like music, and Liam stays still because he wants to hear Zayn say his name like that again.

Zayn pulls his hands away, and Liam looks down to see that his bruises have faded completely. The soreness that he’d felt on his stomach since the accident is suddenly gone. He looks back up at Zayn, holding the other boy’s gaze, noticing that his eyes are glowing gold, his skin is radiating golden light, and Liam feels like he’s looking at the sun.

“What…what _are_ you?” he asks, his voice shaking because he knows that this isn’t normal. This boy…there’s something different about him, because Liam is pretty sure that it’s not normal to be able to heal people like that, or to glow, and he’s starting to think that Zayn might be a superhero, or something…

Zayn reaches up and cups Liam’s cheek with a glowing palm. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, babe,” he whispers softly, and the pet name makes Liam’s heart pound in his chest; he is  acutely aware of how close Zayn’s lips are to his own, and he wants to lean forward and kiss him, and he’s contemplating whether or not that’s a good idea when he hears the front door swing open downstairs. “That must be Harry,” Zayn breathes out, the words tickling Liam’s lips. “Which means that this is my cue to leave.”

Liam opens his mouth to protest just as the door to his bedroom is swinging open, and Zayn vanishes into thin air, and it’s just Liam and Harry standing there staring at each other.

“Why the fuck didn’t you text me back?” Harry demands, his voice quiet so as not to wake up Liam’s parents. Even when he’s annoyed at Liam, Harry is still a considerate guest.

“I…got preoccupied,” Liam says simply, slipping out of his jeans. He crawls into his bed, and Harry takes off his own shirt and jeans and slides underneath the covers beside him, curling up next to Liam and fussing at him as the two of them drift off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

In the morning, they get chewed out by Liam’s parents.

They don’t yell, really. They just let the boys know that they were worried last night, that Liam _really_ ought to be more careful. Harry looks especially guilty at the thought of having disappointed someone else’s parents. It must be rare for him; usually parents love him, after all, and the Paynes had long since accepted him as if he were a second son.

Harry and Liam met on their first day of classes by sheer coincidence. Liam had picked an empty seat in the middle of the classroom; Harry had sat next to him, and by the end of the class he was following Liam out the door and asking him if he wanted to head to lunch together. Liam never made friends so easily, but Harry was good at making people like him, and soon enough Liam had a whole group of friends, partly due to Harry’s influence and partly because of how much confidence he’d gained in the last two years. No longer was he the boy that got beat up after school or teased in class; now he’s stronger, emotionally and physically, and he knows how to smile when he’s talking to strangers, and he’s much happier all around.

So yeah, his parents love Harry, and since he’s a part of the reason that Liam’s doing so much better now, they have good reason to. 

They all go out to a nice dinner that night, and Liam’s parents refuse to let Harry pay for his own meal, and things seem to be good between them before Harry’s driving off to go back home.

—

Liam’s riding the bus to work today. He pays his own fare, despite the fact that his mother offers him some money as he steps out the door. He shakes his head and walks to the nearest bus stop, earbuds in, and he’s listening to something with a pulsing beat. When he steps onto the bus, he sees that it’s mostly empty, except for a couple older women and a man reading a newspaper. He’s holding it in front of his face, but Liam notices a crown of suspiciously gold hair peeking out from behind the paper. Letting out a sigh, Liam sits down next to him and pulls out his earbuds. “Nice disguise,” he mutters with a small smile.

Zayn lowers the newspaper from his face and turns to look at Liam, blinking slowly. Liam notices how long his dark eyelashes are, and how his cheeks are burning a lovely shade of red, and he can only respond with a wider smile. “Sorry,” Zayn apologizes, his voice quiet and nervous.

“No, I—” Liam starts, but he isn’t sure how to finish the sentence, so he looks down at his own hands as they’re clasped in his lap. “Anything big happening in the news?” he asks, gesturing toward the paper that Zayn’s still holding.

Zayn gives him a look of confusion before following his gaze and glancing at the paper. “Oh—I, uh…this is yesterday’s paper, actually. It was…it was in the seat.”

Liam notices the uncertainty that’s in Zayn’s voice, and he nudges the other boy’s shoulder with his own. He thinks about how insecure he used to be, and how talking to strangers would make his mouth feel all dry, and how his palms would get sweaty, and he can’t help but notice that those symptoms are suddenly reappearing as he sits here, next to this beautiful boy who may or may not be stalking him. 

The nervousness seems to be mutual. Zayn licks his lips and gives a timid smile to Liam, looking up at him through those stupidly long eyelashes, and Liam’s heart is beating a little bit faster than it was before. “Where are you, er, headed?” Liam asks.

Zayn licks his lips again and shrugs. “Got some, ah…errands to run.”

Liam nods. “Do any of them include healing people’s wounds? Or saving people?”

“Liam—”

“Like, are you a superhero or summat?”

Zayn makes a face and shakes his head, then turns to look out the window. “Wasn’t that your stop?” he asks, and Liam looks out to see that the pizzeria is now behind them.

“Shit,” Liam grumbles under his breath, reaching over Zayn to tug on the cord and request the next stop a few blocks down.

“You ought to pay more attention next time, Leeyum,” Zayn chastises, slumping back in his seat. 

_Creepy, gorgeous, and annoying. What a lovely combination,_ Liam thinks. He’s starting to grow tired of this game, and is it _really_ so much to want some answers? “Well, maybe _you_ ought to tell me what you’re up to,” Liam says indignantly, his patience wearing thin. The bus stops and he leaps to his feet so quickly that he stumbles; Zayn reaches out and steadies him with an arm, and Liam flinches away from his touch.

“Sorry,” Zayn says a second time, and Liam just shakes his head.

“I’ll see you next time that I come close to dying, I s’pose,” he shoots back, getting off the bus and heading toward the restaurant.

—

It’s a slow night. Liam doesn’t get many tables, and he ends up staying late to close. He’s the last one in the restaurant, and he’s sitting in a booth filling salt and pepper shakers and blasting music from his phone as he does. The door swings open, and Liam doesn’t even look up as he says, “Sorry, we’re closed for the night.”

“Oh, er…I just…I just wanted to talk?” a familiar voice says. “I can…leave, though, if you want?”

Liam looks up and his eyes meet Zayn’s. He forgets to breathe for a second, then realizes that he’s been staring at the other boy for a beat too long. “Um…no, no, you don’t…you don’t have to leave. Want to, er…sit?” He gestures to the seat across from him and Zayn nods, walking over. He moves slowly and gracefully, but Liam can’t help but find it funny to see him struggle as he tries to scoot into the booth.

“What are you laughing at?” Zayn asks defensively.

“Nothing,” Liam responds, a grin on his face.

Zayn watches him filling the salt and pepper shakers for a few moments in silence, while Liam’s music plays in the background.

“So, uh,” Zayn starts. “Do you, uh…want me to, like…stop?”

Liam stares at him. “Stop…?”

“To stop, like…saving you and…hanging around and…stuff like that. I can stop. I mean, you know, since I’ve sort of been…creepy about it, and all.” Zayn is looking down at the table, avoiding Liam’s gaze, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

Guilt rises up in Liam’s throat like bile; he swallows, bites his bottom lip, and screws on the cap of a pepper shaker, sliding it across the table to join the other full ones. “No…Zayn, you’ve been…I mean, I never thanked you properly, did I?” He offers a shy smile, watching as Zayn looks back up at him with an unreadable expression.

“But…you’re scared of me?” And Zayn’s eyes are wide and vulnerable now, and Liam doesn’t want to say the wrong thing, he doesn’t want to take away the light that he sees in those eyes when Zayn smiles, so he shakes his head.

“No. Not scared. Just…confused, is all.” It’s true, after all. Liam hasn’t had a reason to fear Zayn so far.

Zayn nods, tapping his fingers along the table to match the beat of the Michael Jackson song that’s playing, humming along under his breath. Finally, he lets out a long sigh and speaks again. “Confused. Right. That…that makes sense. The thing is, like…if I explain to you…it’ll sound mad, yeah?”

Liam leans in closer and shrugs. “Considering the fact that you’ve demonstrated the ability to cure people instantly, that you seem to know things that I haven’t told you, that you pop up out of nowhere and disappear just as quickly, that you scared those guys off the other night by just looking at them…oh, _and_ the fact that you glow—” Zayn winces like Liam’s attacking him, so Liam doesn’t continue. But he’s not just going to sit here and deal with a bunch of cryptic bullshit; he wants answers. He takes a deep breath.

“Zayn…who _are_ you?”

And Zayn nods, reaching out over the table for Liam’s hand. He holds it in his own for a moment, and both of the boys are looking at the way their hands look together. “Let me show you?” Zayn says softly. He’s asking permission, Liam realizes.

“Okay.”

And that’s when everything goes black.

—

There are two Zayns, all of a sudden.

One of them is the one Liam is familiar with: gold hair, dark stubble, and a timid look in his eyes. He stands next to Liam, glancing over at him from time to time as they watch a second Zayn who’s leaning against the wall of a grungy looking building. It’s dark outside, but Liam notices a lot about this other Zayn in the soft glow of the streetlamp. This Zayn has a scruffy beard, and his dark hair is shaved on the sides. The top of his hair is long, but it’s styled up in a small knot at the back of his head. There’s a lit cigarette between his lips, and his cutoff sleeves reveal arms that are covered in tattoos. Liam gapes at the second Zayn; both Zayns are beautiful, of course, but this one looks remarkably _cool._ He sneaks a glance over at his Zayn, checking for any visible tattoos, but he doesn’t see any.

For a second, Liam wonders if he’s looking at Zayn’s twin brother or something, but Zayn squeezes his hand — he forgot they were holding hands — and whispers, “That’s me. Don’t worry, he can’t see us.”

Liam just nods in response.

Cool Zayn is snuffing out his cigarette butt on the brick wall behind him and tossing it to the ground. He glances around and is about to turn to go back into the building — it’s a bookstore, Liam realizes — when there’s a shout.

“No! Please, no—”

It’s coming from around the corner, and Cool Zayn turns toward the sound, stepping toward it.

“Come on, let’s follow him—er, me,” Liam’s Zayn says, tugging Liam by the hand. Liam almost trips, but Zayn steadies him, and they make their way around the corner, where Cool Zayn is standing between two people. 

The first is a woman who looks to be in her late forties. She’s backed against the brick wall of the building, her eyes wide with fear. The other person is a man; he’s skinny, maybe just a bit shorter than Zayn.

“Just…can you give her back her purse? Come on, I’ll give you whatever money I have in my wallet right now. Just let her go back home, yeah?” Zayn says, his voice shaking. He holds his hands out in front of him like he’s surrendering.

The man doesn’t reply, but he’s stepping toward Zayn slowly, until he’s standing only inches away from him. He’s holding the woman’s purse. “I didn’t want any trouble,” he says, but his tone indicates otherwise.

Cool Zayn stands there for a moment, frozen in place, like he’s trying to decide what to do. And then he’s reaching forward, snatching the purse out of the other man’s hands, and he’s turning to throw it back to the woman, but she’s already running away, the purse forgotten. The man uses Zayn’s distraction to his advantage, giving Zayn a hard shove toward the wall, and Zayn goes falling backward, his head crashing into brick with a heavy crack, and then he’s sliding down to the ground. Zayn is lying there limply, his body crumpled, blood pooling around him, and the man is staring in shock.

“ _Shit_ ,” the man curses. His eyes are wide with panic, he’s holding the purse in his hands, and then he’s running away.

“He didn’t actually mean to kill me,” Liam’s Zayn says sadly. Liam is staring at Zayn’s body.

“So you’re…” he says slowly.

“Well. Sort of,” Zayn says, and everything’s goes black again.

They’re standing outside of a house, and Zayn is sitting on the front step, his hair in a buzzcut like it is now, except it’s still dark instead of blonde. His eyes are dark and cold, and he looks _angry,_ and Liam’s never seen him like this. Liam opens his mouth and turns to his Zayn to ask a question, but the other boy just shakes his head. “Watch,” he says softly, pointing at the other version of himself.

A woman is pulling up to the house. She steps out of her car and it looks like she’s been crying, but she takes a deep breath and walks forward anyway. Liam notices that her eyes look familiar — brown and warm like Zayn’s, although he’s never seen that sort of sadness in Zayn’s eyes before. “Is that…?” he asks, and the Zayn that’s standing next to him nods. The two of them watch his mother step up to the house, and she walks right past her son as though he isn’t there. She doesn’t even look at him or acknowledge him, and Liam understands.

“So then…you are…you’re dead?”

Zayn bites his lip and nods. He gently pulls Liam away from the house, and they walk a few steps forward. “Yeah. That’s…that’s me, back when I was still…angry. Back when I still held resentment for my situation. Back when I felt sorry for myself.”

“So…what happened that changed that?” Liam asks, and Zayn gives him a sad smile.

“I’ll show you,” he replies, and for the third time, everything goes black.

It’s snowing. Liam expects to feel cold, but he doesn’t feel any different than he had earlier. Even as the snow falls down from the sky, it doesn’t touch his skin, and it doesn’t even get close to him. They’re standing at a busy intersection, and the other Zayn — ghost Zayn? — is sitting cross-legged in the middle of the street. Cars and pedestrians go right through him, and no one seems to even notice that he’s there. He looks bored as he stares straight ahead.

“What’s he doing?” Liam asks.

“I sort of…hoped that I’d feel something. Like maybe…a car would hit me once, and it would actually _hit_ me. It’s terrible, being dead, being stuck like that. No one can see you. No one can hear you, no matter how much you scream. No one can touch you…” Zayn trails off. There’s something mournful in his voice, and Liam squeezes his hand to comfort him.

“So how come you can touch me…?”

“Just watch, Li,” Zayn says, and Liam shuts up.

A boy and a girl are standing on the sidewalk, trying to find a good time to cross the busy road. They’re holding hands, and in between looking at the cars, they’re stealing glances at one another and bursting into giggles. They can’t be more than fifteen years old, Liam realizes, as he watches the boy lead the girl into the crosswalk, completely ignoring the _DO NOT WALK_ sign that’s flashing in front of them.

They don’t notice the car that’s turning onto the street, and the driver doesn’t seem to see them until the very last minute. Their brakes skid loudly, but the car is sliding on the slick road—

“ _No!_ ” cries out the other Zayn, leaping to his feet. He’s racing toward the teenagers, arms outstretched, and Liam fully expects Zayn to fall right through them.

But somehow…somehow he’s suddenly solid as he pushes forward, and he goes rolling off to the side of the road with the young couple, and the car is pulled to a stop, and a crowd of people are rushing over…

“Are you okay?” an older man asks, looking right at Zayn.

Zayn looks around, wondering who he’s talking to.

“You came out of…you came out of nowhere, where _were_ you, I didn’t even see—” And now it’s the boy talking, and he’s sitting up and giving Zayn a bewildered look.

“I—”

“What’s your name?” 

“You’re a hero!” 

“Are you okay?” 

“Are you injured?”

And all of these questions are aimed at _him_ , and Zayn looks just as confused as Liam feels. The other Zayn stands up, brushes snow off of himself, and runs in the opposite direction, leaving a crowd of confused witnesses.

And then they’re back at the pizzeria, sitting in the same spot as earlier, and Liam is blinking at Zayn, possibly even more confused than he was before. “Zayn…what does it _mean_ though? How did you suddenly become solid like that? Why were you able to save them…?”

“It’s…hard to explain—”

“Not this again—”

“—but I’ll try my best.” There’s something in his eyes that looks like determination, Liam thinks, before Zayn speaks again. “I stopped feeling sorry for myself. I did something selfless. A few hours later, I went back to how I’d been before. But I started saving people. And I noticed that every time I did, I was solid for a little while longer. It was like…like saving other people was also saving me, in a sense? And then, uh…one day I didn’t dissolve again. The next day I was still solid, I was still visible. And the day after…and then I sort of…got a job offer. That’s the only way I know to put it without leaving you with even more questions, Liam.”

Liam raises an eyebrow. “A job offer?”

“I’m, uh…I hate saying it, it sounds silly…”

“ _Zayn_.” Liam reaches out across the table and timidly takes Zayn’s hand in his own. “It’s okay. I’ll believe you. What you just showed me is…well, unbelievable. Anything else you have to say…I’ll believe it at this point.”

“I’m an angel.”

And Liam, despite his earlier reassurances, finds it hard to believe. Zayn doesn’t have wings, or a halo, or a harp…

…but his eyes are glinting gold now, and his skin is glowing again, and Liam just nods. “Oh,” he says simply. 

“And you’re…well, it’s sort of my job to make sure you don’t die in some sort of…tragic accident, or anything.”

“Oh,” Liam says again. He’s trying to come up with the right thing to say, but all he can manage is “ _Why_?”

Zayn raises his eyebrows. “You really don’t know? Liam, how many times have you been in the hospital in the last year?”

And Liam replies, for a third time, “Oh.”

—

“So like…if you’re dead, how come you look…so different now? Than you did before? I mean, you had…dark hair. And it was, you know, longer. And you had tattoos—”

Zayn doesn’t respond, but Liam notices that his blonde hair starts turning dark all of a sudden. It’s growing rapidly, too, and it stops just as it reaches the length it was at before Zayn died. He shrugs before his hair starts to get shorter and lighter again, going back to how it was before. “I don’t really have a physical body. I can change the way I look.”

Liam tries to take that in as they walk back to his house; the buses have stopped running for the night, and Zayn insists on walking him home. “Okay, so…no physical body, but…” Liam trails off, reaching out to hold Zayn’s hand in his own, giving it a curious squeeze. How is it that he has no physical body when he’s right here next to Liam, when Liam can feel the warmth of his hand?

“A physical presence is different than a physical body. Like…I’m made of matter, right? But…it’s not the same kind of matter you’re made up of. Sort of hard to explain, but that’s the best way I can put it.” Liam goes to squeeze Zayn’s hand again, just to make sure that he’s really there, but his fingers slip through empty space. He looks down and can still see Zayn’s hand, but when he reaches out to touch it again, his fingers just keep slipping through, almost like Zayn is a ghost again. Zayn gives him a timid smile, then reaches out for Liam’s hand, and this time his solid fingers are gripped tightly to Liam’s.

“Right,” Liam says. He’s not sure he completely understands, but maybe he isn’t supposed to. “So…why are you saving my sorry arse all the time?” he asks. He means it as a joke, but Zayn looks up at him with this offended look on his face.

“There’s nothing sorry about you, Liam.”

“I was…I was joking.”

“Oh.” They come to a stop as they arrive at Liam’s house, and Zayn turns to him, licking his lips nervously. “Most of us watch over certain areas and watch out for…well, for the people who need the most saving.”

“So…in the whole town…I’m the one who’s in the most danger?” Liam asks, and his eyes are wide because if that’s the case, then he’s more than a little worried.

But Zayn just chuckles. “Not quite. You’ve just…got a lot of good in you. More than most people. It sort of draws me…well, _us._ We can sense that. But you’re not the _only_ one I keep an eye out for, y’know? You’re just…in danger more often than most people, is all.” He looks down at his feet, and Liam can’t help but smile, because he doesn’t feel like he’s looking at an angel. He’s looking at someone his own age, someone who’s a little awkward and earnest, but kindhearted just the same.

“I can’t quite deny that, can I?” Liam laughs.

There’s a pause and the two of them are standing there, looking at each other, and Zayn takes a step forward, and for a brief second Liam thinks he’s about to lean in and kiss him—

But Zayn just gives a small smile, leans forward, and asks, “Do you think you can make it up to your room without getting yourself killed, mate?”

Liam blushes, hoping it’s too dark for it to be visible (although angels might have some sort of night vision or something, he thinks nervously). It was silly to even hope…but he gives a slight nod. “Yeah. Thank you, Zayn. Thank you for…for keeping me safe. And for healing me. And for, uh…for trusting me enough to open up about your past like that.” 

Zayn’s smile widens. “Goodnight, Li.” 

Liam isn’t sure when they got to the point where Zayn should feel comfortable calling him by a nickname, but he sort of likes the way he calls him that, so he just gives a little wave before turning to step inside. He makes it all the way up to his bedroom before taking a peek out the window to see if Zayn has pulled his disappearing trick yet…

And there he is, smiling up at him from the ground, surrounded by a cloud of hazy light. Liam blinks and he’s gone. 


	3. Chapter 3

Liam hasn’t seen Zayn in two weeks, and while it’s a good thing that he’s able to avoid near death experience for that long (“Tell me, is this your personal best?”Louis asks him at work one day), he can’t help but notice his absence. He wonders if he’s off saving someone else, or if he’s skipped town because he’s revealed his secret identity or something.

 _No, wait, that’s superheroes._ Liam flops backward onto his bed after work one night and wonders if angels carry cellphones. Or are you supposed to signal them with a beacon or something? Or…is that superheroes again?

And it isn’t that he wants to see the other boy again. Well, okay, he _does_ want to see Zayn again, but he’s not completely sure why. Maybe it has to do with the way he feels around him — safe and protected. He’s got his very own guardian angel, it seems. Not to mention the fact that it’s fascinating, this whole angel business, and Liam’s missed a perfectly good opportunity to ask some existential questions. Does this mean that heaven is real? And does that mean God is real, too? And hell?

It has to mean that, right? 

Liam reaches over to the lamp on his bedside table and turns it off with the intention of going to sleep, but in the darkness it feels like his questions are bigger, louder, more intrusive. They’re buzzing around in his head, and he finds himself tossing and turning, struggling to find an answer to any of them.

_Why do I even care?_

He should be glad not to have seen Zayn lately, right? No near death experiences is typically a good thing. But then he wonders if going too long without almost dying means that Zayn has to move on and find someone with even worse luck than him—

He takes a deep breath and reaches into his nightstand drawer, fumbling in the dark to find his headphones. Grabbing his phone, he decides to listen to something quiet and soft to ease his mind.

—

The next day, Liam misses the bus.

And it’s not his fault, really. He was on his way to the bus stop, a solid five minutes early, when he realized he’d forgotten his apron for work. In hindsight, he could have just asked to borrow someone else’s, but initially he panicked, realized he was unprepared, and couldn’t bear the thought of showing up without that vital piece of material, so he turned around to get his apron and almost, _almost_ caught the bus, and he swears that the driver saw him running behind the vehicle as it pulled off, his arms flailing wildly.

So he’s walking briskly to work — well, more like jogging briskly, because he really hates to show up late — and he’s already in a bad mood when he hears a familiar voice.

“Are you on your way to work?”

Despite Liam’s bad mood, he can’t fight a gentle smile at the sound of that lilting voice. He slows down to a quick walk and looks over to see Zayn keeping pace beside him. His hair is black today and it appears to be a bit longer on the top than it was before, for some reason, and Liam thinks that he likes it quite a bit. Zayn almost looks normal, or about as normal as someone that beautiful can look, and Liam thinks back to the kid with the tattoos and cigarettes. Normal looks good on Zayn, he thinks before realizing that he’s been staring. Zayn asked him a question, hadn’t he? “Yeah,” he says stupidly, pausing for half a beat before clarifying, “Work.” 

“Mind if I tag along?” Zayn asks. He’s smiling, but it looks a little strained because it doesn’t meet his eyes, and his lips are pressed together too tightly, hiding his teeth.

“No,” Liam replies. _Liam Payne, king of monosyllabic answers_ , he berates himself silently.

“Oh. Okay. Well, um…good,” Zayn replies. He flashes Liam a toothy grin that still doesn’t feel genuine, as though he can sense that Liam wasn’t buying the first one.

“So, like…heaven,” Liam blurts out. His cheeks flush, and Zayn raises his eyebrows.

“What about it?”

“Like…is it real? I mean, is that where…angels live, or…?”

Zayn is silent for a moment, staring at the sidewalk before turning back to Liam. “Do you believe in heaven?” he asks quietly.

“Er…well, I’m…I mean, I’m not sure. I mean, I believe…in _something_ , I think.”

And Zayn nods. He doesn't say anything for a long time, and Liam wonders if he's offended him with that question. Finally, Zayn speaks up again. “Some things are meant to be a mystery for the living, yeah?”

Liam doesn’t like that answer, and he doesn’t like to think of Zayn as being dead, but he doesn’t press for more information. “So, uh…where have you been?”

“You’re curious today.”

“Well, yeah, you’ve been missing in action for two weeks—”

“Mmhm,” Zayn hums. “I’ve been busy. You’re not the only one around here who needs saving.”

Liam strangely feels a twinge of jealousy at that. “So what’s brought you back?”

And Zayn sucks in a long breath — _do angels even need to breathe?_ Liam wonders — before responding, “I don’t know. Something’s wrong. I don’t…I usually feel drawn toward people or places…before something bad happens? And I’ve got this feeling…something seems off today, Liam. I was hoping I could come to work with you today, just in case. I’ll stay out of the way, I promise. I’ll even make sure no one can see me. Is that all right?”

Liam can’t help but give a quiet chuckle at that. His guardian angel is asking for permission to potentially save his life. He almost wants to tease him for it, but instead he just nods. Zayn lets out a sigh and mutters, “Good.”

“You don’t have to hide, though,” Liam responds after a beat. “You can just, like…hang out? In my section? The other servers do it all the time, you know, they’ll call their friends up to take up a table so that they have someone to talk to when it’s slow. It’s Thursday, so I doubt many people will come in tonight. Do you eat pizza?”

Zayn furrows his brows for a minute and mulls over the idea before nodding slowly. “Okay, yeah. I like pizza.” He smiles, and this time it looks like a real Zayn smile because his eyes are squinting and his nose is scrunching up.

It turns out that Liam is only a few minutes late, so he shows Zayn to a table in the back, where it’s quiet and the lights are dimmer, and he opens the menu in front of him. Zayn finally settles on a cheese pizza because it’s the cheapest option and Liam’s offered to pay for it, and whenever Liam has a lull (which, as he predicted, is often), he finds himself lingering over by Zayn’s table, watching as the boy eats a surprising amount of pizza.

“Who’s the pretty boy you’ve been flirting with all night, Payno?” Louis asks when they’re in the kitchen. “Does he go to school with us? Does he live around here? Where’d you meet him?”

Liam blinks before attempting to tackle the interrogation. “I’m not—I haven’t been flirting. No, no, and…it’s sort of complicated, actually.”

“Complicated how?” Louis presses, because he doesn’t know when to stop talking.

“Er…he saved my life?” It turns out that it’s not that complicated, when you take away all the angel stuff.

“So you bought him a pizza?” Louis asks. After a pause, he adds, “Remind me to save your life sometime.” He gives a playful nudge as he says it, a cheeky grin on his face.

Liam rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but laugh.

“So, what’s the pretty boy’s name?” Louis asks, pulling out his cell phone and tapping away at the screen.

“Um,” Liam starts, wondering if it’s okay for him to tell Louis anything about Zayn. Again, the whole question of a secret identity comes up. He bites his lip, scratches the stubble on his chin, and finally gives in. “Zayn.”

“Zayn? Huh,” Louis repeats. “Well, if it means anything, I think he likes you, too. Why else would he sit around at this place all day?” 

“I don’t think that’s it. Like I said, it’s sort of…complicated.” 

“If you say so.” Louis shrugs and smiles down at the phone in his hands for a moment. “Hey, Liam, can you do me a favor and cover me? I’ve got a, um…important phone call to make.” 

“Er — I guess? You only have one table, right?”

“Yep. And if you need me, I’ll be in the walk-in.” He’s grinning widely, and Liam is suspicious but he doesn’t know if he should pry — are they on that level yet? But Louis walks off without another word, taking his apron off and placing it on the counter before slipping into the walk-in refrigerator to take his call.

Liam cleans off a few tables and dashes back into the kitchen to grab food for his only table apart from Zayn, and he’s just about to go looking for Louis since another table has come in when Zayn makes eye contact with him from across the room. He’s staring at Liam expectantly, so Liam greets the other table before making his way over to Zayn. “Something wrong?” he asks.

“Well, that’s the thing…I thought there _would_ be. Sorry to bother you all night—”

“You didn’t bother me,” Liam cuts him off, his tone firm. “You can stay as long as you like. There are only three other tables here right now, Zayn. It’s fine. Maybe your spidey sense is off tonight, or something.”

Zayn makes a confused face at him.

“You know, like in _Spiderman_ …”

“I got the reference. I was human less than five years ago, Liam.” But he’s smiling as he says it, so Liam realizes he hasn’t offended him.

“Oh.”

“I just…never thought about it that way. You make me sound like a superhero.” He laughs a bit, biting his bottom lip.

And yeah, Liam’s thought of that before.

“I’ll stick around til the end of your shift, though. I’ll walk you home,” Zayn says. “You know, if that’s…okay with you.”

Liam grins widely and responds with a simple, “Yeah, that’s fine,” before going back to work.

—

He’s stepping back into the kitchen when it happens.

“ _Shit!_ ” 

Earl, who works in the kitchen, is standing there and gaping at the wall, and for a split second, Liam thinks he should ask what happened — but then he notices what Earl is staring at. 

The wall is on fire, and it’s not so big — small flames, really, but Earl is practically petrified by the sight, and Liam is running to grab the fire extinguisher from the back corner of the kitchen, but before he gets a chance, the fire is already spreading. It ignites Louis’ discarded apron and keeps going; it turns out there are a lot of flammable items in the kitchen.

“ _Shit_ ,” Liam echoes, and his manager is stepping out of the office with a concerned look on her face. She sees the fire, her eyes widen, and she looks around at Liam and her kitchen staff, which right now consists of Earl and two other men.

“Get everybody out,” she says calmly, and the words are barely out of her mouth before everyone is rushing out of the kitchen. 

Liam steps out and glances at all the diners, who look confused at the commotion. “ _Fire!_ ” he shouts at the top of his lungs, and Zayn is suddenly at his side, pulling him by the sleeve as everyone else rushes out. Smoke is starting to fill the air as his manager runs to check the bathrooms for customers, and Liam tugs his sleeve away from Zayn. “I want—I want to make sure she’s okay—” he insists.

“ _Liam._ ”

“ _Zayn_.”

There’s a silent standoff during which Liam thinks Zayn might actually kill him with the sheer intensity of the glare he’s sporting, but his manager emerges safe and sound, just as the smoke is clouding Liam’s vision. It’s getting thicker, and the older woman runs by to get to the exit.

“What are you two _doing_?” she demands. “Get _out_.”

And Liam lets Zayn tug him out of the building, trying to keep himself from coughing out of sheer pride alone. The restaurant’s patrons and staff are huddled outside as the manager talks on the phone with emergency services.

“I knew my, er… _spidey sense_ …wasn’t wrong.” Zayn mutters, and Liam can’t help but laugh at the way he does air quotes around the words ‘spidey sense’ and gives a goofy little grin.

“Yeah, well, for once this wasn’t my fault. I almost got to save the day, you know,” Liam replied, nudging Zayn gently. “I should see if Gwen needs me,” he says, nodding his head in the direction of the manager. “You know, in case they need, like…witnesses, or…”

His stomach drops.

He lets the end of the sentence hang in the air, and Zayn is looking at him with concern in his eyes, but Liam barely notices that the other boy is still there. “What? Liam, what’s wrong?”

“ _Louis._ ”

“What about—”

“He’s stuck in there, he went to the walk-in to make a call—I-I forgot about him, I forgot he was in there, someone has to—” And as he’s speaking, Liam is making his way toward the building again, but Zayn’s arm juts out and stops him in his tracks.

“Stay. Here.” Zayn emphasizes each syllable and gives Liam another scary look before vanishing inside the building.

“Your friend—what the hell is he playing at? He’s going to get himself killed!” Gwen shouts, and Liam is staring at the building, offering a silent prayer to God or whoever it is that allows angels to exist, and Zayn’s been gone for far too long, hasn’t he?

Liam’s left alone with his panic and guilt, and the combination is making him nauseous. This is his fault. He was the only one who knew where Louis was, he should’ve done something as soon as the fire had started, he shouldn’t have let himself get so distracted by Zayn and Gwen and the customers, he should’ve gotten Louis out—

Zayn emerges from the building with Louis riding piggyback, and he’s clinging to him like a monkey — a very profane and coherent monkey —uttering a string of expletives between coughing fits. “Holy _fucking_ shit, I can’t fucking believe—” he starts, only to start coughing again.

Zayn sets him down on the ground. “Are you all right?” he asks, but he’s pressing his hands to Louis’ chest and his coughing fit starts to die down some.

Louis sits up. “Holy _shit_ ,” he says, and then he slumps over and passes out.

—

“I swear to God, Liam, your friend was walking right through the flames and they didn’t even _touch_ him—”

“What?” Liam tries to hide the panic in his voice.

“That Zayn kid? He barged into the kitchen, I was surrounded by flames, I couldn’t see a way out because of all the smoke, yeah? And he just… _walked through the fire_. I saw it with my own two eyes, Liam.”

“You were probably hallucinating,” Liam cuts him off. “You did inhale some smoke back there. It can make your brain go a bit fuzzy.”

But Louis isn’t having it. He sits up in his bed and squints at Liam, arms crossed defiantly. “No. I _know_ what I saw. There’s something weird about Zayn.”

And Liam falls silent because, yeah, there is, but it’s not really his secret to tell, is it? With a shrug, he avoids Louis’ gaze, staring down at the carpet. He’s standing awkwardly in the doorway of the other boy’s bedroom, leaning against the doorframe because he feels obligated to stick around for a bit, since it’s kind of his fault that Louis almost died, and all.

The paramedics said Louis would be fine, that he should just get some rest and visit the hospital if he notices that anything seems off, so Liam made sure he got home all right.

“Well, thank him for me, would you? He ran off before I could say anything.” Louis seems to recognize that he shouldn’t press for more details as he leans back against the headboard of his bed, muttering something about _glowing,_ and Liam takes this as his cue to leave.

“I should, uh…get going,” he sighs, looking back up at Louis.

“Yeah…yeah, okay. Let me know if you hear anything about how the fire started,” Louis says.

“Er, yeah. I will.” Liam gives a tight smile and turns to leave.

When he steps out of Louis’ house, he sees that Zayn is waiting for him on the sidewalk. “Electrical fire,” he says as soon as he sees Liam.

“What—?”

“Something faulty with the wires. I stuck around a bit, eavesdropped on the firefighters.” 

“Oh.”

“There was a lot of damage to the restaurant, you know. It’s going to be a bit of a nightmare to get it all fixed.”

Liam lets out a small sigh. He can’t help but feel bad for the owner of the place. “Guess I’m out of a job for a while, then.”

Zayn is quiet as they walk home. “I can’t believe you almost went in there,” he finally says when they get to Liam’s street. He says it quietly; it’s not like he’s reprimanding Liam, or anything. He just sounds surprised.

Liam blushes. “Pretty daft of me, yeah. I just…I didn’t think? As soon as I realized he was still in there, I just sort of…acted. I felt like…I felt like it would be my fault, if Louis got hurt…”

“That’s not daft.” Zayn stops as he says it, looking up at Liam through his long eyelashes, and Liam stops too. They stand there, facing each other in the middle of the quiet street.

Liam lets out a chuckle. “You don’t have to lie to spare my feelings, Zayn, really.”

“I’m not. That’s not daft. It was…I thought it was brave.” He looks shy when he speaks, and Liam thinks he sees a hint of a blush on his cheeks — or maybe he's imagining it. “You’re always getting hurt. You’re like…an accident magnet, and you were willing to risk your life to save your friend. Sort of daft, yeah, but…” he trails off.

Now Liam is most definitely blushing, and he lets out a nervous laugh. “I mean, you…you went in there and saved him. You’re the one who was brave.”

Zayn just shakes his head and looks down at the asphalt. “It’s my job. I’m already dead.”

Liam takes a step closer to Zayn and reaches out to give his hand a squeeze. “Thank you,” he says. 

And Zayn just looks up at him again, and there’s something sad in his eyes when he says in a voice that’s just barely above a whisper, “Of course.” 

They stand there like that for a moment, and Liam’s heart is thumping loudly in his chest, and he wishes he could lean in and kiss Zayn right then and there, but despite what Zayn might have said, Liam isn’t brave. He doesn’t have to courage to close the space between them, so he brushes his thumb along Zayn’s hand gently until he meets his eyes.

“Take care of yourself,” Zayn says finally, breaking the silence. “You should get back inside.”

Liam just nods, and he’s about to turn to walk up to the house when he remembers something. “How do I get ahold of you?” he asks timidly.

“Just…call for me, yeah? I’ll hear you.” Zayn smiles and it still looks sad, and Liam wonders if he’s aware of how easy it is to read his face right now. He takes a step back, dropping Liam’s hand and looking up at the house. “Goodnight, Liam.”

Liam wants to ask if something’s wrong, but Zayn disappears instantly, and it’s almost like he was never there.


	4. Chapter 4

“Are you okay?” Harry asks as soon as Liam answers the phone.

_It’s a little too early in the morning for this,_ Liam thinks, but he’s wide awake anyway. He didn’t sleep very well last night, there was too much on his mind, and his vibrating phone wouldn’t have been enough to wake him anyway. So he lets out a sigh and answers, “Yeah, I’m—”

“Louis told me about the fire. He said you didn’t have any injuries, but—”

“You talked to Louis?” Liam interrupts.

“You’re changing the subject,” Harry says, but his voice remains pleasant. “But yes, I did.”

“I didn’t know you two were friends.”

Harry is quiet for a moment. Liam can picture him right now — half-naked (or maybe fully naked, but he doesn’t exactly want to picture that) with his hair still messy from having just woken up, his eyebrows furrowed as he thinks of what to say. “We’ve been talking more lately. At the party a few weeks ago, we sort of…hit it off, so we exchanged numbers.”

And Liam sits up in his bed as he realizes something. “ _You’re_ the one Louis was calling on the phone when the fire started!” he accuses.

There’s an exasperated groan on the other side of the line and Harry says, “Yes, I know, it’s all my fault.” 

Liam balances the phone between his face and his shoulder as he gets out of bed, walking across the room to pull on a pair of jeans. “Well, luckily, everyone got out unharmed. Louis inhaled a bit of smoke and passed out, but the paramedics said he’ll be fine. They checked me out, too, and I was good, so no need to worry.”

“Excellent! Well, I just wanted to check up on you. I’m glad you’re all right. Does Karen know what happened?”

Liam bites his lip. “I told her and Dad what happened when I got home last night. They took it surprisingly well — probably because they were just glad that I wasn’t injured.”

Harry chuckles over the phone. “Probably because of your friend, right? He helped to make sure everyone got out? Or at least, that’s what Louis said.”

Liam pauses for a beat. “Er…you mean Zayn?”

“Yeah, that was it. I’m a little hurt you didn’t tell me that you have a friend that’s a certified superhero—”

“He’s not a—”

“I’m teasing, Liam. Although Louis is convinced that Zayn managed to walk through flames.”

Liam doesn’t say anything for a moment before finally replying, “Well, Louis inhaled a lot of smoke. He passed out and everything. I think he was just hallucinating.”

“Hm,” Harry hums over the phone and falls silent, and Liam can practically hear him thinking on the other line. “Hey, listen, I’ve got to get going, Mum wanted me to run some errands for her today. Also, she keeps asking when you’re going to come visit.”

“I don’t really have a job for the time being, so…soon, probably.” He doesn’t commit to a day yet — a part of him wants to stick around town for some reason, and if he’s being honest with himself, that reason is _Zayn_. 

“In that case, I will see you _soon_ , Liam!” Harry says cheerily before hanging up, emphasizing the word ‘soon’ in a way that would be threatening if said by someone else.

But it’s Harry, so Liam just shakes his head and smiles to himself.

He sits on the edge of his bed, half dressed and a little sleep deprived, and he’s tempted to try going back to sleep before he remembers Harry’s quip about Zayn being a superhero.

_What does an angel get up to after a night of saving lives?_ Liam wonders, pulling on a t-shirt. Would it be inappropriate to try calling for him now? He’s not in any life-threatening danger, but he finds Zayn fascinating. And part of him doesn’t even think the whole ‘just call me’ thing will work. 

So he decides to try it, and he feels foolish when he does. What, exactly, does calling an angel look like?

“Zayn?” he says softly. 

A few seconds pass, and he finds himself staring hopefully at his bedroom door.

But nothing happens, and he lets out a long sigh before lying back on his bed. _Might as well get some sleep_ , he figures. 

“Liam? Are you all right?”

Sitting straight up, Liam sees Zayn standing at the foot of his bed. “Oh. Um. Yeah, I’m—I’m fine, I just…wanted to see if it would work. You know, the whole…calling thing. I’m sorry, I hope you weren’t in the middle of anything important.”

Zayn looks relieved. His hair is different today, longer and black and styled up into a quiff. “I wasn’t. Sorry it took so long to get here. I ran into some traffic.”

“Don’t you just like…apparate everywhere, though?”

“It was a joke, _Leeyum,_ I just got caught up with something. And besides, I think apparating is strictly a part of the _Harry Potter_ universe.”

Liam raises an eyebrow. “Angels read _Harry Potter_?”

“Not really, no. But eighteen year old boys do,” Zayn says casually.

Liam hesitates. “Is that…is that how old you were when—?”

Zayn nods. “Mhm.” 

Eager to change the subject, Liam asks, “So, uh…what’s your day look like?”

“What?”

“I mean…did you have…plans, or anything? Er, you know. Places to go, people to save? Important angel business?”

The other boy considers this for a moment. “No. Not as far as I can tell.”

Liam gives a nervous smile. “Would you be opposed to hanging out for a bit? I figure doing angel stuff gets exhausting every now and then. And I wanted to thank you for saving my life…what was that, three times now? And for saving Louis.” 

“Considering how good you are at almost dying, it might be a good idea for me to keep an eye on you anyway,” Zayn says with a smile. “What did you have in mind?”

—

They end up walking to a coffee shop nearby. Liam wonders if he’s broken any sort of unspoken rules by essentially asking an angel out on a date — but Zayn hadn’t said no, and he reminds himself of that whenever he gets too nervous about the ordeal.

And it isn’t _really_ a date, even if Liam does wind up buying both of their drinks and pastries, which he _only_ does because Zayn doesn’t have any money on him.

“I don’t have to buy things very often,” he admits. “I sort of forgot that people use it.”

But Liam is happy to hand over his credit card to pay for two cappuccinos, a bagel, and a piece of angel food cake (that was Zayn’s idea of a clever joke, a mischievous glint in his eye as he placed the order).

They find two comfortable armchairs in a quiet corner of the shop, and Liam watches as Zayn takes his first sip of coffee. His eyes flutter shut, and he lets out a little _ah_ as the taste hits his tongue, relishing an almost forgotten human vice. His face is free of worry or stress, especially boyish for just a moment.

Liam doesn’t want to interrupt, but his curiosity gets the best of him. “So, like. How does the whole _eating_ thing work?” he asks.

Zayn’s eyes flutter back open, his expression still soft. “I don’t really need to eat. I usually don’t, unless I need to pretend to be human. Every now and then I like to indulge; it’s hard to give up human habits. But older angels…they forget what it’s like to be human. It’s sort of scary to think…but for now, it’s comforting to have a cup of coffee here and there. I’ve even been known to smoke a cigarette, which is a major faux pas by the way. We’ll keep that between us, of course.”

“Of course,” Liam remarks, taking a sip of his own drink, endeared to Zayn’s small acts of rebellion. “Speaking of the supernatural aspect, Louis thinks you’re a superhero now and I can’t convince him otherwise.”

“You all seem to have a preoccupation with superheroes,” Zayn observes, rolling his eyes with a playful smile.

Liam shrugs. “Doesn’t everyone? I’ll be the first to admit that I was a little…excessive about it as a kid. You can imagine what that did for my social life…for whatever reason, having a comic book collection makes you a walking target. Those big blokes you saved me from, Freddy and Kevin? They _loved_ to make a human punching bag out of me.”

“They seem like the type,” Zayn scoffs. “I used to collect comics, too. I thought it’d be cool to work as, like, a comic artist. Or an English teacher. Or a musician, even. Still hadn’t made up my mind.” He pauses. “What are you studying at uni?”

“Music, actually. I’m not exactly sure what I’m going to do after school, though,” Liam admits sheepishly.

“You’ve got time,” Zayn reassures him. “I know you’ll figure it out.”

_How do you know?_ Liam wants to ask. He imagines that someone must’ve told Zayn once that he had time, that he’d figure out whether he wanted to be a comic artist or a teacher or a singer.

Zayn speaks again, interrupting his thoughts. “I have all of eternity. Don’t feel sorry for me, Liam.”

He tries not to.

—

As they’re leaving the coffee shop, Liam assumes that they’re going to head off in separate directions, but Zayn stays by his side.

“Where are we going now?” he asks. His hand brushes Liam’s as they walk, the slight contact making Liam’s heart speed up.

“Dunno,” Liam replies. “I only planned up until the coffee part.”

“Hm.” Zayn stops dead in his tracks, right in front of the window of a record store. Bob Marley is blasting from inside, and Zayn glances over at Liam. “This place looks sick.”

“I’ve never been inside,” Liam says. 

A grin spreads across Zayn’s face, and he reaches out for Liam’s hand to drag him inside the dingy little shop. A cashier stands boredly behind the cash register, flipping through a magazine; he looks up through his shaggy long hair and says, “Sup?” without waiting for a reply.

Zayn gives him a nod, suddenly emitting the aura of coolness that Liam remembers from before. This was Cool Zayn, and Liam can imagine a cigarette between his lips as he flips through stacks of records. “Music sounds better on vinyl,” he mutters, and Liam isn’t sure if it’s directed at him or if Zayn is just thinking out loud.

“Yeah, it does,” Liam agrees, watching in awe as Zayn plucks a couple of records out. “I don’t have many albums though, I only got a record player a few months ago.”

“We need to change that,” Zayn says. He’s got this wicked look in his eye, and Liam thinks this is the least angelic he’s ever seen him. “We’ll start your collection today.”

It seems like Zayn’s forgotten about the whole _money_ thing again, but Liam doesn’t object as Zayn hands him album after album, muttering to himself as he peruses the selection.

When they check out, a look of embarrassment crosses Zayn’s face. “I’ll pay you back,” he promises, watching Liam swipe his credit card again.

Liam grins. “You don’t have to pay me back as long as you listen to them with me.”

Zayn licks his lips, a nervous habit that must’ve carried over from his mortal days. “Deal. I wanna be with you when you listen.”

—

The house is still empty when they get back, and Liam sets up his record player in his bedroom. Zayn picks the first album, and Liam recognizes it immediately as Pink Floyd.

“Good choice,” he comments, taking a seat on his bed. Zayn beams proudly, still standing in the center of the room. He closes his eyes and listens, head bobbing along to the music.

“Haven’t heard this in a while,” Zayn says softly. “Years, maybe.”

“Angels don’t have music?”

“We do. It’s different, though.”

“Is it better?”

Zayn pauses to think for a moment. “No. I mean, it’s beautiful, of course. The sounds are…unlike anything you’ll find in this life. Mortals make music out of their hardships and human experiences, and that’s something you lose when you die. So yeah, it’s a bit different, but certainly not _better_.”

“Can I hear it?” Liam asks.

Laughing, Zayn replies, “Maybe one day. Let’s enjoy this stuff first, though. I wanna make sure you get your money’s worth.” There’s something fond in his tone as he speaks.

Liam stretches out on his bed so that he’s lying down, staring up at the ceiling. _Under normal circumstances, this would be a pretty good date,_ he thinks. He imagines, for a moment, that Zayn is still alive — that he’s still the tattooed kid who smokes cigarettes and saves strangers.

“What are you thinking about?”

Looking over, Liam sees that Zayn has taken a seat next to him on the bed. He leans back on his hands, eyes on Liam.

“So you can’t read minds, then.” Liam lets out a small sigh of relief, turning onto his side so that he can look at Zayn. “You just _know_ things?”

He shakes his head. “No, I can’t read minds. I’m not _that_ creepy. But I do have ways of finding things out,” Zayn says cryptically. “You’re avoiding my question.”

“Do I have to answer it?”

“Of course not. I was just wondering. You don’t have to answer if you really don’t want to.”

Another pause, and Liam feels especially brave.

“I was thinking about how much I’m enjoying being around you,” he admits.

Zayn doesn’t say anything, but he stretches out next to Liam so that they’re both lying down face to face. “Hm.”

They lie there for a few moments as the last song plays. Neither of them speaks; they just watch each other, captivated, and Liam can feel Zayn’s breath tickling his face — _do angels need to breathe, or is it just an old habit?_ he wonders — and he’s gathering up the nerve to lean in, to catch Zayn’s lips with his own, but the other boy is leaping out of the bed before he gets a chance.

Confused, Liam sits up again, watching as Zayn fishes around for another record, settling on Michael Jackson as the next choice. He comes back to the bed to sit down, but this time hovers right at the edge, suddenly shy.

“Zayn?” Liam is scooting over to sit next to him at the edge of the bed. His head snaps up, and there they are again, staring at each other. Liam’s heart is pounding in his chest as he leans in slowly for a gentle kiss, a feathery brush of the lips. Zayn hesitates for a brief second before he's kissing Liam back, soft and unsure, like he isn't used to the feeling. And kissing Zayn is everything Liam imagined it to be, the other boy's lips are soft and careful against his own. Pulling back with widened eyes, Liam watches Zayn intently, waiting for a response.

For a moment, he just looks dazed. It passes quickly, and suddenly he’s standing up. “Oh. Oh, _Leeyum_ ,” he whines, dragging out Liam’s name. If not for the apologetic tone, Liam might like how it sounds, but he knows that Zayn is about to tell him that this can't happen, that kissing an angel was a mistake, and his stomach drops. “I’m sorry.” Zayn’s voice is just above a whisper, and Liam immediately recognizes that this is what rejection feels like.

And Liam feels foolish as his cheeks flush a deep red. He shouldn’t have done that. What was he even thinking? Had he really been so stupid as to think that an angel could return his feelings?

“Not…not because I don’t like you,” Zayn says, remorse clear in his voice like he’s somehow read Liam’s mind, despite his earlier claims to the contrary. “Liam, I—you make me feel…” He shakes his head and instead of finishing the sentence. “But I’m not supposed to…” He can’t seem to find the right words, and Liam grimaces, standing up.

Liam reaches out and holds Zayn’s hand between both of his own, his grip careful and firm around the other boy's fist. He feels like he’s holding a bird between his palms — fluttery, nervous, and likely to fly off if frightened. He raises Zayn’s hand to his lips, looking up to meet Zayn’s eyes as he does, his gaze soft.

Zayn is frozen in place, his eyes locked in Liam’s as if he’s trapped there, as if he can't look away. He’s quiet for a moment, and then he’s shaking his head and pulling his hand away, wincing as Liam’s fingers brush against his own. “I’m—I’m sorry, Liam…” More apologies.

Neither of them speaks for a moment, not until Zayn reaches out and brushes his fingers through Liam’s short hair. Then he’s pulling back, staring down at the floor. “Let me show you something?” he pleads, his voice small and quiet.

“Okay,” Liam says immediately, trying to keep his voice from wavering.

Zayn nods and his skin starts to glow, like it does before he heals a wound. But the light that emanates from his skin is getting brighter than Liam’s ever seen it get. And he’s starting to _feel_ it too, because as the light’s intensity grows, he starts to feel himself getting warmer, and Zayn grows brighter _still_ , and Liam’s starting to sweat, and he has to look away because the light is starting to burn his eyes. He feels like he’s staring directly into the sun in the middle of the day, when it’s high and bright and hot.

And then it stops, and Zayn looks normal again. Relatively normal, that is, except for the perfectly white wings sprouting from his back. They’re huge; Zayn’s wingspan is at least his height, and his already small frame looks tiny by comparison.

Liam gapes for a second, before tilting his head and reaching forward. “Can I…?” he asks, and Zayn nods, not making eye contact. Liam steps closer and lightly touches the edge of one of Zayn’s wings with his index finger, running it along the feathers. It’s soft, impossibly soft, and it reminds Liam of down feathers. He notices that Zayn’s tensed shoulders seem to relax with the touch, so Liam extends the rest of his fingers, too, running them down Zayn’s wing. “Is this okay?” he asks, meeting Zayn’s eyes.

“Mhm," Zayn hums softly, eyes half-lidded. Liam steps closer so that their noses almost touch, bringing his other hand to cradle Zayn’s cheek, still stroking Zayn’s wing with his other hand. Zayn closes his eyes and lets out a content little hum, leaning into his touch, and Liam can feel the vibration of the sound from where his palm rests against Zayn’s face. He is gentle with Zayn, because he looks so fragile, even with his wings, even though he knows that he's the more breakable one. Somehow, it’s easy to forget in this moment.

They’re silent. It feels like they're under a spell, something so delicate that Liam is afraid to speak until the question on his mind feels hot on his tongue. “You wanted to show me your wings?” he says finally, his voice hushed as though the magic will stick around if he’s quiet enough.

Zayn’s eyes snap open and he jerks away from Liam’s touch. He appears to immediately regret it, though, when he sees the wounded look on Liam’s face. “I’m…I'm sorry,” he says. His voice sounds so small and broken, and now Liam feels like _he’s_ the one who should be apologizing. “I’m not supposed to feel this way.” Zayn stares at his own feet, and his wings are fluttering nervously, stirring the air in Liam's otherwise stuffy room.

“W-What?” Liam asks stupidly.

“It’s too...it's too _human_ , it’s too _mortal_. It’s not…I shouldn’t be feeling these things.”

“Says who? God?”

“No, it’s not like that, Liam. It’s not that I’m not _allowed_ to feel like this. It’s that I’m not _supposed_ to be able to. Do you understand?” 

Liam pauses for a moment. “So what are you saying, Zayn? I’m a bit…confused. You’ve got…you have feelings for me?”

Zayn nods miserably.

“But since you’re an angel…it should be impossible to feel that way?”

“Yes, _Leeyum_.” He sounds exasperated, and his wings are now folded back, diminishing his size. “It’s not _normal_. There’s…there’s something wrong with me.” He stares down at the floor and sits on Liam’s bed, so Liam sits next to him and reaches out to stroke his wings. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Zayn. It’s…it’s probably because you’re so new at this. How old are the other angels?”

“It—it depends. Some of them are ancient.”

“That’s got to be it, then. There’s nothing wrong with you, yeah?” But Zayn looks like he’s on the verge of tears, so Liam leans over and brushes his lips against his temple. “I promise,” he adds quietly.

But Zayn just frowns and shakes his head. “You can’t promise that.” Still, he leans over to rest his head on Liam’s shoulder, closing his eyes.

They stay like that for a while before Zayn finally pulls away. He gives Liam a sad look and plucks a feather from his own wing.

“What’re you—?” Liam starts.

“Take this,” Zayn says, holding it up before placing it in Liam’s open palm. “It’ll keep you safe.”

Liam inspects the feather skeptically. “From what?”

“You’re incredibly accident prone — well, in all honesty, it’s not an accident most of the time. There are some negative forces that will latch onto anything good they can find in this world. And they really, _really_ don’t like me — er, _us_. Angels, that is. For the most part, they avoid my kind. An angel’s feather can act as a sort of…repellant for those forces; they can sense my essence in the feather, and they’ll stay away. Of course, every now and then you’ll get something particularly vicious…the fire the other night? I was there the whole time, and it still happened. But I want you to have this, just in case…just in case something comes after you when I’m not around. Is that okay? I realize it’s a bit strange—”

But Liam shakes his head and runs a finger over the soft feather. “It’s not. It’s not strange. Thank you, Zayn. It means a lot to me.”

Zayn gives a small smile before leaning in to press his lips to Liam’s cheek. “I should leave,” he says.

“Please—” Liam begins, but Zayn is already glowing gold. He disappears from the room, just as Liam finishes his sentence: “—don’t.”


	5. Chapter 5

The next day, Liam realizes he doesn’t have anything to do with the restaurant closed, so he shoots a group message to Harry and Niall. _Lads’ weekend at Harry’s next Friday?_

Niall replies almost immediately. _I’m in!_

A few seconds later, Harry replies as well. _Finally. Mum’s thrilled._

He’s still in bed, still wondering if last night was real. Everything about it seems bizarre in the context of daylight, and he almost feels like it was all a dream — but then he sees the stack of records on the floor and the delicate feather resting on his nightstand, and he finds himself trying to comprehend exactly what happened. Zayn seems to have left him without much clarity about their situation. 

But still, when he gets dressed, Liam tucks his feather into his back pocket; he can’t bring himself to leave it in his room after Zayn has made what seems to be a big gesture. Maybe it’s a silly assumption, since Liam has no idea how many other people Zayn might be protecting. Maybe he’s got another mortal to look after, or five other mortals…

And it’s strange, how jealous that makes him, as if he deserves to be monopolize Zayn’s time and energy, as if he has some special status among an entire planet of vulnerable people. But doesn’t he? Hadn’t Zayn admitted to having feelings — something which apparently doesn’t happen often among the world of angels — that matched Liam’s? He can see how any human might fall in love with Zayn, how easy it must be for them all to imagine some special relationship with an angel, but the difference in this case is that the feelings are mutual.

So Liam feels a little safer with the feather in his pocket, and his mind keeps drifting to it. He wonders if Zayn is resolving the situation somehow, if he’s discovering whatever secret it is that makes it so easy for other angels to avoid falling for accident prone humans. Or maybe he’ll get in some kind of trouble with the others if he admits to it. There must be _rules_ for a situation like this, right? 

Liam shakes his head to rid himself of the thoughts as he walks out of the house that afternoon.

Without a job, he’s volunteered to run errands for his mother in order to stay busy, and today that means he’s picking up a few items from the grocery store. He’s halfway done with his list when he hears someone calling out his name, and he looks up to see Louis hurrying over. “Payno! What’re you up to, mate?”

“Doing a bit of shopping for my mum,” Liam replies, eyeing the candy bars in Louis’ hand. “Looks like a well-balanced meal.”

“Treats for my sisters,” Louis says with a shrug. “I was craving something sweet and thought I’d pick something up on my way home, you know. I’ve been so fucking bored without work.”

“Me too,” Liam agrees. “That’s why I’m running errands, to be honest.” 

“What are you doing later?” Louis asks. The question comes as a surprise for Liam, who hasn’t spent much time with Louis outside of work and school.

“Um…I dunno, actually. I don’t really have plans,” Liam admits hesitantly.

“We should hang out!” 

Liam pauses for a moment, considering this. “Yeah, okay. What do you want to do?”

“I dunno. Movies? Your place? I’ll bring snacks.”

A little confused, Liam nods. “Sounds good.”

“By the way, I heard that you _apparently_ tried to run into the restaurant the other day and save my life? Which, like. That was cool of you. I’m glad Zayn stopped you, because it was pretty stupid, if you ask me, but…thanks, man.” And Liam doesn’t expect it, doesn’t see it coming, but Louis reaches out and engulfs him in a hug that is surprisingly tight for a man of his size, like he’s clinging on for dear life.

When they part, Louis is giving a mischievous grin. “I’ll text you when I’m on my way over,” he says before walking away.

“See you later,” Liam mutters, shaking his head.

The rest of his errands are uneventful, and he returns home in time to help make dinner. He and his parents are cleaning up after the meal just as the doorbell rings, and Liam opens the door to see Louis holding what might be the world’s largest bag of junk food. The top of the bag is tucked under his chin, and he handles it as though it’s the most precious cargo in the world.

“Didn’t know what you liked, so I got a little bit of everything,” he admits. “It’s weird how long we’ve known each other without my ever learning whether you prefer sweet or sour.”

“It is a bit odd, yeah. Usually that’s the first thing you ask a person,” Liam teases, stepping aside so that Louis can come in. “You can head up to my room — er, it’s upstairs, first door on the left. I’ll just finish cleaning really quickly—”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got it under control!” Karen calls out from the kitchen.

“Are you sure?” Liam calls back.

“It doesn’t take three people to clean up,” Geoff responds, and Liam can hear him chuckling from the next room.

So Liam and Louis head up to Liam’s room together, and Louis makes himself at home immediately, placing the snacks on the bed and taking a seat next to them. “Er, okay, I was thinking we could watch, like, Iron Man?” Liam suggests, holding up the movie.

“Fine by me,” Louis agrees, kicking off his shoes and pulling out a few different packets from his bag. “All right, for the first course, I’ve got sour gummy worms, Reese’s cups, chocolate covered pretzels, cheese puffs, and jelly babies. Pick your poison.”

“Pretzels,” Liam decides, and Louis immediately hands him the entire bag of chocolate covered pretzels. “Thanks.”

“Pace yourself, mate. We’ve got another two courses to get through,” Louis says, and his tone is deadly serious, so Liam doesn’t argue as he starts the DVD. They sit back on his bed as the film starts, the room mostly quiet aside from chewing noises.

They’re almost halfway through the movie when Louis turns to Liam. His voice is quiet when he asks, “Why did we used to hate each other? I remember not liking you, but I can’t remember why, for the life of me.”

Liam takes a second to think about it and realizes that he can’t remember either. “Er…I dunno, actually. Unless — _wait_. The volcano project, do you remember that?”

“The volcano project…?”

“We had to do, like, some sort of competition in science class, yeah? And I decided to make a papier mache volcano, and I brought mine in to present to the class, do you remember? And you had—”

Something clicks in Louis’ mind and he lets out a loud gasp. “Oh god, I remember now. I had a volcano too, but mine was _way_ better.”

Liam snorts audibly at this and elbows Louis in the side, which earns him a jab as well. “Please, yours barely erupted.”

“ _Yours_ looked like it had been made by an eight year old.”

“It _was_ made by an eight year old, Louis.”

“Yes, exactly, but mine could’ve _easily_ been made by a twelve year old. The craftsmanship of mine was clearly superior.”

“Ah, yes. I suppose _that’s_ why yours didn’t even place in the competition.”

“Third place is hardly something to brag about, Payno,” Louis retorts, throwing a gummy worm at Liam’s face. He stretches out so that his legs rest in Liam’s lap, as if they’ve been friends for all these years instead of childhood rivals. “Regardless, I’ll be the bigger person, as usual. I apologize for calling you a dork when you beat me in the science competition.” He’s smiling as he speaks, despite his haughty tone.

Liam rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling back at Louis. “Yeah, okay. I’m sorry for saying your eruption looked stupid. Even though it sort of did.”

“Wonderful. And now look at us, bosom buddies at last. Harry would be proud.” Louis’ casual mention of Harry’s name reminds Liam of the trip he’s making next weekend, and he hesitates for only a moment before making a decision.

“Speaking of Harry…I’m taking the train up to see him next weekend. I know you two have been talking to each other and all that — do you want to come along? I’m sure he’d be thrilled to see you. Niall’s going to be there too, and as long as you and Harry don’t act disgusting together, I think we’d all be glad to have you along for the trip,” he offers.

“Really?” Louis asks.

“Yeah, of course.”

Louis bites a gummy worm in half before answering. “We’re not taking the train, though. I’ll drive.”

—

The thing is, Louis is an awful driver.

Liam regrets his decision to let Louis drive almost as soon as they’re in the car together, after three _extremely_ sharp turns and one too many close calls involving Louis’ timing in hitting the brakes. If there has ever been a time when Liam needs the comfort of knowing there’s a higher power somewhere out there keeping him safe, then it’s now.

He slips his hand into his pocket, running his fingers along the feather that he’s been keeping there. A little part of Zayn that he keeps with him at all times, a little piece of someone that makes him feel safe. 

A week has passed without him hearing anything from Zayn. He’s starting to get worried, but he’s been too nervous to risk calling him again. After all, if Zayn wanted to see him, wouldn’t he have made it a point to do so by now?

The radio is on, a quiet hum of soft music rising above the constant rumble of the car engine, and Liam tries to relax. Louis rolls down his window and lights a cigarette, singing along to the music under his breath.

 _Your boyfriend might kill me. He’s a terrible driver,_ Liam texts to Harry. 

The response is almost immediate. _Ironic, considering your boyfriend saved his life. And he’s not technically my boyfriend yet._

Liam slumps back in his seat. _Idk, H, spending a weekend at your place is pretty boyfriend-like behavior._ _And Zayn isn’t my boyfriend either,_ he replies. 

A second later, there’s another response from Harry. _You might have a point._

“Let’s play a game,” Liam suggests, tucking his phone into his pocket and turning to face Louis.

Louis grins. “All right. I spy with my little eye…something green.”

“Um. Grass?”

“Nope.”

“That tree we just passed?”

“Nope.”

“…if the answer is Harry’s eyes, I swear to God—”

“It’s not! Don’t get your knickers in a twist. Here’s a hint: you’re wearing it.”

Liam looks down. “My shirt?”

“There you go.” Louis drops his voice down an octave. “‘ _If it’s Harry’s eyes, I swear to God.’_ Honestly, how much of a sap do you think I am?” He flicks his cigarette butt out the window, shaking his head.

“Okay, fine, it’s my turn. I spy with my little eye something blue.”

“The sky.”

“The sky is gray at the moment, Louis.”

“Yeah, okay, uh…a bluebird.”

“Do you see any bluebirds?”

“No, but I thought _maybe_ you had. Oh! It’s your jeans.”

“It’s not. Do you give up yet?”

“No. Is it, uh…my jeans?”

“Getting warmer.”

“My…socks?”

“Colder.”

Louis turns his attention away from the road and looks at Liam for moment before letting out a long sigh. “I give up.” He turns back to the road, shaking his head.

“It’s _your_ eyes, mate,” Liam says, waggling his eyebrows.

Louis makes a dramatic retching sound and reaches out to swat Liam’s arm.

—

Harry and Niall are waiting for them on the porch when they arrive, sipping from mugs of tea as Liam and Louis gather their things and get out of the car. Harry immediately sets his mug down and makes his way toward the two of them, offering to help carry bags as Niall charges toward Liam, embracing him warmly.

“I can’t believe I missed two almost-deaths of yours. Incredible. It’s only been, what, two months?” Niall teases.

Liam pulls away from the hug. “Yeah, yeah, good to see you too.”

He glances over to Harry and Louis, the energy between them suddenly fluttered and nervous, but they’re both grinning widely. “How was your trip?” Harry asks, presumably speaking to both Liam and Louis, although he hasn’t taken his eyes off Louis since they arrived.

“It was good, yeah. Liam might be in love with me, he kept talking about my eyes. Does he do that a lot?” Louis jokes.

“Oh, don’t mind Liam, he’s a bit of a romantic,” Harry replies. “Shall we go inside, then?”

They file into the house, Niall and Liam familiar enough with it to immediately find Harry’s room and throw their things inside. It’s a tradition of theirs to all sleep in the same room, despite the fact that there is a guest room right next door. Louis isn’t timid at all about following them, and Harry sets his bag down with the others.

Louis looks at the other three expectantly. “So. Now what?”

Liam, Niall, and Harry all exchange a look. “Well, according to tradition, we’ve got some catching up to do,” Niall says, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

“There’s a pub nearby that we like,” Liam explains.

“And there are… _rules_ attached to said pub,” Harry chimes in, mirroring Niall’s expression.

Louis gives them a puzzled look. “Um, what?”

“Very… _strict_ rules,” Niall says, moving toward the door.

“Is anyone going to explain what you three are on about—”

“Last one to the car has to drive!” Niall calls out, taking off into a run.

“No fair, you can’t start running until _after_ someone starts the game!” Harry shouts, running after 

him.

“I _did_ start it—”

Liam and Louis are left in the room, amusement in Louis’ eyes. “So. Is this a stand-off?”

Liam chuckles. “I’d rather you _didn’t_ drive, if we’re being honest, and I don’t really feel like drinking,” he admits. “So, uh. I’ll let you win this time, if you want. Go on, then, make a show of it.”

And suddenly Louis is scurrying after Niall and Harry.

—

It’s still early when they get to the pub, so it’s quieter than usual. They take their usual table in the back corner, where they have a view of the entire place, and Louis has to buy the first round for _almost_ being the last one to the car.

Liam has missed this — laughing and talking and goofing off. He’s missed Harry’s easy smile and his annoying jokes, and he’s missed Niall’s loud, explosive laughter, and he’s almost surprised at how easily Louis fits into the natural rhythm of things. There’s an overwhelming sense of familiarity, and a feeling he can’t shake that this is how things will be from now on.

And he can’t help but notice how easy things are between Louis and Harry, how they start to get more touchy with one another as they drink, how they exchange inside jokes and secret glances and somehow manage to act like they’ve been together for years even if, according to Harry, they’re not _officially_ a couple.

Liam sips his beer, suppressing the jealousy that rises in the back of his throat. He’s happy for them, of course. He wants nothing but good things for his friends, but he can’t help but wonder how Zayn would fit into the picture — if he would laugh and joke with them, eyes scrunching up the way they do when he’s amused. He imagines Louis’ hectic energy against the calmness that Zayn exudes, imagines Zayn warming up to Niall and babying him the way the rest of them do, imagines Harry and Zayn swapping clothes and complaining about whatever stupid shit Liam and Louis are getting up to.

He imagines himself next to Zayn, a proper couple hanging out with their friends, with none of this angel business interfering. It’s too much to deal with at the moment, when he just wants to enjoy himself. “I’ll be right back, I left something in the car,” Liam says suddenly, standing up. He needs a bit of solitude, and he needs to get away from the happy couple — or _almost_ couple — for a few minutes.

The other three look at him curiously, but they seem to believe his excuse.

Stepping outside into the fresh air, Liam sees a boy in a leather jacket leaning against the brick wall of the building, smoking a cigarette. It’s an eerily familiar scene, too reminiscent of his death.

“Zayn?”

The boy looks up. Liam isn’t sure if angels are supposed to sleep, but he thinks Zayn looks tired when he smiles.

“Hi Liam.” He snuffs the cigarette out against the wall, dropping it to the ground. Liam stands next to him, and their shoulders brush.

They’re silent for a moment before Liam speaks. “Where have you been?” he asks, trying to conceal the hurt in his voice.

Judging by the look Zayn gives him, he doesn’t conceal it very well.

“I’m sorry,” Zayn apologizes, and Liam wishes he were keeping count of how many times he’s said that.

“For what?”

Zayn looks down at the ground, leather boots against concrete. “For all of this. For leading you on.”

“You didn’t lead me on,” Liam says.

Zayn shakes his head. “We can’t be together. You know that, right?”

Another silence stretches out between them before Liam can respond. “Well, why not? Explain it to me, Zayn. You’re always so vague, and I need you to just _explain_ to me why we can’t be together.”

Zayn bites his lip, shaking his head again. “Because you’re _human_. You’re _mortal_. You’ll get older. You’ll graduate from university, you’ll find a career, you’ll want to — to settle down, and have kids, and live in a nice house. You’ll live another sixty or seventy years and then you’ll die. You have your whole life ahead of you. But…for me, this is it. I have a duty to save lives. And that’s what I’ll be doing, every single day. I don’t have a future, Liam. I couldn’t ever give any of those things to you. I don’t even know how long I’ll be in this part of the world — for all I know, I’ll be summoned to Russia next week. And then what? It just doesn’t make sense. There’s no point in trying to make this into anything.” His voice shakes as he speaks, and he pulls another cigarette out of his pocket.

Liam falls silent at that, feeling like he’s been punched in the stomach. He’s watching as Zayn fumbles with a lighter to ignite the end of the cigarette, watching as Zayn takes a long puff, eyes closed, cheeks hollowing out. When he takes the cigarette out of his mouth and exhales, Liam reaches over to pluck it from between his fingers, taking a drag before passing it back. There’s nothing he can think of to say, so he wraps an arm around Zayn’s waist and pulls him closer, and Zayn relaxes into the touch despite the far-off look in his eyes.

“We can’t be together,” Zayn repeats.

Liam sighs. “You said that already.” He plants a kiss on top of Zayn’s head, nuzzling into soft black hair, longer than it was a week ago.

“I’m sorry,” Zayn says again, voice small.

“It’s not your fault.”

“I just — I wish things were different, _Leeyum_. I wish—”

“Me too.”

They stay like that for a few more minutes as Zayn finishes his cigarette, dropping it to the ground. “Your friends will be looking for you.” He pulls away from Liam’s embrace, avoiding eye contact.

“Yeah. Probably,” Liam agrees, feeling especially cold without Zayn’s warmth against his body.

They stand facing each other for a moment, neither of them saying a word.

Zayn leans forward and catches Liam’s lips with his own, the taste of smoke lingering in his mouth. There’s something final about the way he wraps his arms around Liam’s neck, about the way he presses himself against him, about the way he sighs into the kiss.

They pull apart unceremoniously, with Liam wanting desperately to pull Zayn into a second kiss.

“Goodbye, Liam,” Zayn says with a sad smile. “If you ever need me — you can call me. You can always…you can always call me, okay?”

Liam nods, feeling a lump rise in his throat. “I’ll miss you,” he says simply.

And with that, Zayn starts glowing. 

He disappears right before Liam’s eyes.

—

It’s raining when they leave the pub, and it matches Liam’s mood perfectly. He’s spent most of the night perfecting his fake smile, trying to follow along with jokes and appear as though nothing is wrong. The others seem to pick up on something, though, and when Harry says they should head back home, Liam is quick to agree.

Louis and Harry sit together in the back seat of Harry’s car, with Niall in the passenger seat. The three of them are arguing about something related to Batman, and Liam is tuning them out as he drives on the back roads, preferring them to busy streets.

It’s easy to zone out. He can’t stop thinking about Zayn, about the way he’d said _goodbye_ , like maybe that was the last time they’d ever see each other. The idea of it makes his mouth suddenly go dry, makes his heart start pounding in his chest. 

The rain is coming down harder now, and Liam’s got the windshield wipers moving as quickly as they’ll go. His friends seem oblivious to the conditions outside.

“All I’m saying is that sometimes Bond is cooler than Batman,” Niall says.

“In what world, Horan?” Louis retorts.

Liam goes back to tuning them out.

They’re almost home when it happens, and it happens so quickly that Liam doesn’t see it coming, doesn’t even realize how deep the puddle they’ve hit is until it’s too late. He feels the tires of the car lose their grip on the slick road and automatically goes to hit the brakes, but now the car is spinning out of his control — spinning right off the road into a ditch. The tires hitch on the jagged edge of the road, and the car is suddenly in the air, moving as if in slow motion, and it’s landing upside down, and he can hear himself and the others screaming, shouting, and Liam feels his head smash against the roof with a deafening _crack_ , and then everything goes dark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a cliffhanger there...don't hate me!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it! I've had a lot of fun writing this story and I have especially enjoyed seeing other people's reactions! Thank you so much for the kind comments and kudos, they each mean a lot to me. I hope to post something else in the next few months as well, so if you've enjoyed this then I hope you'll join me for other fics in the future.

_Goodbye, Liam._

Zayn doesn’t have a heart. He doesn’t even have a body, really, not in the strictest sense. But he imagines that his heart is breaking when he says those words, a sharp pain piercing his chest. He doesn’t cry, but he feels the prickle of tears in his eyes, and he thinks that this is his own fault. It’s his own fault for getting too friendly with a mortal, for allowing himself to indulge in Liam’s company, as if he didn’t know what was coming, as if he hasn’t been intrigued since their first meeting.

Something brought him to Liam that day — a feeling, an instinct. _Spidey senses_ , Liam would say. Something in his head was screaming at him to go to _that_ intersection, at _that_ time, on _that_ day, so he listened. He did as he was told, followed directions because this, at least, was better than wasting away as an angry spirit. He didn’t think — couldn’t have have known — that meeting Liam would turn him into something else: lovesick and heartbroken, a mortal in all but the physical sense.

 _Are you okay?_ he’d asked — a stupid question, really, as he remembers the bloody mess of the accident. Brown eyes stared back at him accompanied by an incoherent string of words, and Zayn held his hand up to Liam’s head. He mended a cracked skull, stitched gaping skin together using nothing but light and energy, heaven’s own team of surgeons, and from then on he couldn’t leave him alone. When he spoke to Liam for the first time, he could smell alcohol and cigarettes on him, and Zayn couldn’t help but feel mortal in his presence. It was easy to forget how different they were, easy to escape into this rhythm; going out for coffee, listening to records, _kissing —_ and Zayn was addicted to playing the part of a foolish mortal with a crush.

He didn’t bother to ask Liam this time if he was okay. He had to look no further than the hurt in his eyes, but this time he knows he can’t fix it. There’s nothing he can do to mend a broken heart, no energy he could summon to repair the damage that he’s caused.

Zayn hasn’t strayed too far away from the pub, lingering only a few blocks down the street. There’s something in his head screaming at him to stay nearby, though whether it’s supernatural or simply his own reluctance to leave Liam, he can’t be sure. So he stays, leans up against a shop window, and pulls out another cigarette — _it’s just so that I have a reason to stand here doing nothing_ , he tells himself, _so that the mortals don’t think I’m suspicious._ He passes time, watching people drive by, watching as their cars grow smaller and smaller in the distance, wondering what sorts of lives they lead.

 _Any of them could die tonight_ , he thinks. When he’d gotten dressed for work on the last day of his life, he thought he’d come back home that evening. And isn’t that how it always goes? They never know, not until it happens. Most of the time, he doesn’t know either, couldn’t guess which of them will wake up tomorrow morning, next week, next month. 

But he _does_ know this: Liam will be waking up tomorrow, and every day after that, until his heart gives out, until he’s too old to stand, because Zayn has been keeping something from him. 

_Goodbye, Liam —_ he said that for Liam’s sake, because disappearing without a word would only hurt him more. There’s no such thing as a guardian angel, not in the sense that he might be assigned to protect only one mortal, but Zayn isn’t going to let that stop him from doing whatever he can to keep Liam out of harm’s way. Death is inevitable, but Liam is going to outrun it until he’s out of breath.

It starts to rain. Zayn drops the cigarette, snuffing it out with the heel of his boot. He sighs, shoves his hands into his pockets, tilts his head back to get a view of the sky as fat raindrops land on his face. _It’s getting late_ , he realizes. Liam and his friends should be heading home now, shouldn’t they?

He figures he can wait for them, just to make sure they get there without any issues, so he squeezes his eyes shut, preparing to travel. Liam thinks of it as magic, and maybe he’s right, but Zayn thinks of it as dematerialization — particles breaking apart from one another and reappearing somewhere new. It always leaves him feeling like he’s just finished running a marathon, equal parts exhausted and exhilarated.

He materializes just outside of Harry’s house, his car and its passengers mysteriously absent.

Zayn’s first response, of course, is to worry, but he knows how mortals are. Why shouldn’t Liam and his friends stay out all night if they want to? 

It’s just — something doesn’t feel right. 

He walks the length of the driveway. The rain gets heavier, pounding loudly against the roof of the house. Sighing, he takes a seat on the front steps, staring out into the night. His hair is plastered to his forehead, completely soaked, and something on the ground catches his eye — 

This is where his heart would stop if he were still alive. 

He rises to his feet, walks out into the rain, crouches down to get a better look. It would be innocuous enough under any other circumstances, but Zayn sees the trampled, muddy feather on the ground and knows he has to move quickly. _Liam must’ve dropped it_ , he realizes.

It’s not too late. It can’t be too late.

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath — air that he doesn’t need, air that’s being wasted — and tries to find Liam. He can feel him, but something isn’t right. He’s distant, foggy, like he’s a continent away and — that’s wrong, he shouldn’t feel that far away, and Zayn is starting to panic now.

Another deep breath. This time he tries looking for Harry — and he’s closer somehow, so Zayn latches onto him, follows his essence, finds himself in the middle of a darkened road. The entire road appears to be deserted until Zayn sees them.

Harry’s car is flipped over. His eyes catch movement, so he races over, sinks down to his hands and knees, and peers into the window of the backseat. Harry pounds on the glass frantically when he sees Zayn.

“ _I — can’t — open the door_ ,” he’s shouting. 

The door is barely cracked, caught on the muddy hillside, so Zayn gestures for Harry to move back. “I’m going to break the window,” he yells over the rain. “Cover your eyes.”

He makes sure Harry is safe before kicking the window in, glass shattering loudly. He kicks away a few more jagged edges before gesturing for him to crawl through. 

“Are you all right?” Zayn asks as Harry crawls out into the mud. It takes him a moment to get to his feet, but he nods, and Zayn can sense the effects of alcohol and a minor head injury. He stands in front of Harry and rests a hand on his head, earning him a puzzled look — but Harry doesn’t budge, lets Zayn heal him completely before speaking.

“What was that—?”

“No time to explain, is anyone else conscious?”

“No, it was just me. I tried waking them up—”

“Help me get them out. Try not to move the car,” Zayn says, his voice deceptively calm. On the inside, he’s screaming — he can almost feel their heartbeats growing weaker, and he doesn’t have _time_ to panic, doesn’t have time to do anything but act. He’s back on his hands and knees, crawling to the driver’s side.

Liam is there, unconscious, head propped up against the window. Zayn knows that he can’t break the glass without injuring him further, so he goes to the other side of the car as Harry drags Louis out through the broken window.

The mud is lower on Niall’s side of the car, so Zayn yanks on the door handle, thrusting it open. He undoes Niall’s seatbelt before pulling him to safety, and then he’s crawling in to get Liam, dragging him out through the open door. 

Niall is coming to, a loud groan escaping from his mouth, so Zayn kneels beside him first, cradling his head in his hands. There isn’t enough time to be gentle — he directs as much energy as he can muster into his hands, a loud _zap_ knocking Niall unconscious again. But he’s healed now, fully recovered.

Zayn gets back to his feet, knees weak. He tries to refocus his energy, can feel himself getting lightheaded, but he knows he needs to push through it. 

“Please, please help them too —” Harry is begging, half-sobbing as he sits between Louis and Liam.

Zayn crouches next to Harry, brings one hand to Louis’ chest and the other to Liam’s. “Don’t worry,” he says between grit teeth. “I need you to call for an ambulance,” he tells Harry, who immediately fumbles around in his pockets to find his phone. His own energy is running low, but he manages to draw more. It feels like electricity is coursing through him as he tries to heal the two unconscious bodies at once, two currents of energy flowing through him at the same time. He’d usually be more gentle — but he’s worried that there isn’t enough time.

Louis is coughing and sputtering, alive but weak, and Zayn delivers another blast to him. It knocks him out, and Harry looks alarmed as he makes his phone call, but Zayn has to focus on Liam now.

Liam’s eyes flutter open. “Zayn?”

Relief washes over Zayn, a smile spreading across his face. “You’re okay,” he sighs, slumping over him. He rests his head on Liam’s chest, damp from the rain, listening for his heartbeat. He feels faint, weak — but Liam’s heart is still beating.

“Mm,” Liam hums.

Zayn brings a hand to his head, feels a bruise there. _Internal bleeding_ , he realizes. He feels like he could pass out right now, wants to lie down next to Liam in the mud, but he doesn’t know how long it’ll take for the ambulance to arrive, wants to make sure Liam will be all right. He plants a kiss on Liam’s forehead. “I’m going to do it one more time, okay?” he murmurs. “It might hurt a bit. You’ll pass out, all right? But when you wake up — I’m going to be there, I’ll be right next to you, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Liam agrees. Zayn isn’t sure how much he can actually understand right now, so he leans over his lips, kissing him gently — and he breathes into him, exhaling the last bit of his own energy into his lungs, a hand keeping his head steady.

Pain sears through him, and it feels like it’s tearing him apart from the inside. He’s heard of this before — angels expending all of their energy, healing too rapidly. He squeezes his eyes shut, pushing through it.

Angels don’t die, because they’re already dead. Zayn is nothing more than an imprint of a human, memories and energy welded together by light. If he expends his energy, he might wake up in his own realm, where angels appear in their true form.

Or he might not wake up at all. Maybe the universe will suck up all of his energy and turn him into something else entirely, something that is neither alive nor dead, something that lacks consciousness — 

But he made a promise, didn’t he? He told Liam he would be there when he wakes up, so he tries his best to hold onto the mortal world, using Liam as an anchor. _I’m going to be here_ , he repeats to himself. _I’m going to be here when you wake up_.

Another _zap_ pulses through Liam. The internal bleeding stops, and Zayn pulls back. His arms are shaking; he can barely hold himself up, but he rolls off of Liam, landing gracelessly in the mud. He can hear sirens in the distance, thinks he can see lights flashing, and Harry is kneeling over him. He’s speaking, saying something, but Zayn can’t make out the words.

His eyes flutter shut. He can feel his physical body dissolving, rearranging like it’s trying to dematerialize and appear elsewhere, but he has no control over it. His head hurts — _hurts_ , as if he’s mortal — and he can feel himself losing consciousness. 

“You saved us,” he hears Harry saying.

He thinks he hears something else — a faint _thank you_ — before everything goes black.

—

“You’re bleeding through the gauze. They need to change the bandage again. I didn’t realize how deeply the glass had cut you, but I guess you landed on a pretty big piece of it.”

Zayn wakes up to a brightly lit room. Liam is hovering over him, holding his bandaged hand up.

“I don’t bleed,” Zayn responds. His mouth feels dry.

He sits up, realizing he’s in a hospital bed, eyebrows furrowing. “I shouldn’t be here,” he says. “They’re going to notice something’s wrong — I don’t even have a heartbeat.”

“Um. Beg to differ, mate.” Louis stands in the corner, a styrofoam cup of coffee in his hand as he leans against the wall. “Check out the monitor.”

Zayn blinks. “What?” 

Liam nods toward the machine next to the bed. It’s beeping steadily, although the speed picks up when Zayn sees it. His heart is racing, according to the lines on the machine…but he doesn’t have a heart.

“That doesn’t — that doesn’t make sense.”

“So far, very little of this whole ordeal has made much sense,” another voice pipes in. 

That’s when Zayn sees Harry seated in a chair, a magazine spread across his lap. “I thought Louis was losing it when he called you a superhero before, but…I saw what you did back there.”

“You had a bit of head trauma,” Zayn mutters. “So I don’t know that you’re the most reliable witness. Look, I need to get out of here before they figure out that something’s wrong.” He tries to yank an IV out of his arm, desperate to pull himself free of the monitors and machines that are trapping him, but the moment he starts to pull, it hurts too much.

“Zayn—” Liam starts.

“Liam did say you might freak out a bit when you woke up,” Niall comments from the doorway. He steps into the room with an armful of vending machine snacks, tossing a few bags in Louis’ direction.

Zayn pushes himself out of the bed and stands up, turning to Liam. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he says softly. “But I can’t — I can’t stay here. I don’t know what’s going on right now, I don’t know how I’ve managed to disguise myself so well, but…I can’t stay.”

He takes a step forward and his knees give out.

Liam’s arms fling out immediately, steadying Zayn. “Be careful. They said it looked like you were electrocuted. A bit weird.”

“Electrocuted?” Zayn repeats. He shakes his head. He doesn’t know what these doctors are playing at, or if there’s been some divine intervention to prevent his true nature from being exposed, but he knows he has to leave. 

Closing his eyes, he focuses on materializing somewhere else — somewhere far away from here, where no one can find him. He’ll find Liam again later, he reasons, but right now he can’t stay.

He opens his eyes again, and he’s still standing in the hospital room.

“Maybe you should lie back down,” Liam says, ushering him toward the bed, worry written on his face, but Zayn pulls away, closing his eyes again.

When he opens them, he’s still in the hospital room, and that’s when he starts to panic. He holds up his bandaged hand, red blood leaking through. It hurts when he flexes his fingers, so he brings his other hand to his chest, horrified at what he finds.

It’s a heartbeat.

—

“Looks like you got a second chance.”

It’s the middle of the night. Four boys sleep in chairs scattered around the room, and Zayn doesn’t recognize the woman in the doorway. She’s glowing, brown skin and large eyes, a reassuring smile on her face.

“Who are you?” Zayn asks.

“You can’t even recognize us anymore. You really _are_ mortal.” She saunters into the room, taking a seat next to Zayn on the bed. “I haven’t seen this happen in a very long time. Do you mind?” she asks, a hand hovering over Zayn’s head.

“Mind what?”

The woman sets her hand on his head, and warmth spreads through him. It’s uncomfortable at first, but it’s over almost as quickly as it began, and she’s reaching for his hand, pouring more energy into healing him. She’s the image of serenity as her hands fall away from him. “You’ve done well. Four people in one night — three of them would’ve died if it weren't for you. An older angel might’ve been strong enough to survive that, but…you were so young. Still mortal where it counts, really — going off and falling in love with humans. So it appears as though you’ve been rewarded for your selflessness.”

“Selflessness?” Zayn repeats. “How was I selfless?”

She shakes her head incredulously. “You would’ve let yourself die again. Even among our kind, that’s an admirable decision,” she explains, beaming with pride. “Not many would do it. I suppose that’s why you’re here now — fully human again. I’ve come to give you our blessing and protection.”

“What do you mean?” Zayn sits up in the bed, eyebrows furrowed. “Whose protection are you talking about?”

“All of us,” she responds. “And we’ll do what we can to look out for your boyfriend, too.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Zayn mutters, a blush rising to his cheeks.

She blinks. “Yeah, okay. Well — I just wanted to make sure someone told you what was going on.” She leans forward and presses a light kiss to Zayn’s forehead. “Good luck, Zayn. If you ever need help, you can call for me.” She stands up, making her way to the door.

“ _Wait,_ ” Zayn calls out.

She turns around expectantly.

“What’s your name?” he asks. “I need to know your name if I’m supposed to call for you.”

“Oh! I almost forgot.” She lets out a giggle. “I’m Leigh-Anne. I’m sure I’ll see you again — but hopefully not for another seventy years or so.”

And with that, she begins to glow brightly, disappearing right in front of Zayn’s eyes.

—

Liam holds Zayn’s hand as they step out of the hospital. Louis, Harry, and Niall are trailing behind them.

“So…you’re human again?” Liam asks.

“Seems like it,” Zayn answers. “It’s horrible.”

Stopping in his tracks, Liam turns to Zayn. “What’s so horrible about it? At least you’re not dead.”

“At least when I was dead I had a job. Saving people is easy. Living is…something else entirely. And they have some nerve, really — I’m alive, but every legal document about Zayn Malik will say that I’ve been dead for five years now. What am I supposed to do?”

Liam bites his bottom lip before leaning forward and planting a kiss on Zayn’s forehead. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Zayn lets out a sigh. “I don’t have any money. I don’t have anywhere to live.”

“I’ll help you. You can live with me for a bit, I’m sure my parents won’t mind. And we can find jobs together; since the restaurant burned down, I need a way to earn money, too.”

“You’d think they could’ve given me an instruction manual or something. _Living as a Mortal For Dummies._ ”

Liam laughs, pulling Zayn into his arms. “No one gets a manual, Zayn, especially not mortals. And I’ll be right here by your side while you figure it out, okay?”

And Zayn can’t help but smile when Liam says that, and he barely notices the words that slip out of his mouth. “I love you,” he says quietly. There isn’t enough time for him to regret them, because Liam pulls him closer and leans in to kiss him. 

“I love you, too,” he says when they pull apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed the ending! Feel free to come chat to me on [Tumblr!](http://zatan.tumblr.com) :)


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